tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-342871842024-03-07T18:42:17.994-08:00Carolyn Bennett Writer/ComicPeace, Order and Good Government/
paix, ordre et bon gouvernementCarolyn Bennetthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05512871717902253504noreply@blogger.comBlogger110125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34287184.post-15033178688927105642020-12-21T09:47:00.000-08:002020-12-21T09:47:47.519-08:00Season's Greetings from CBennettworld<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUHA9vi4DvxY76hkCAhBjTgBbicS0nR4I1rig4QzbgMP6Wr11VjOrF3HH9z8yrArcXniwyyaxLCg-IXgS3yn6VIXTMVl69fjcfCQrwk5FAJJQW5bFDgLK5it0nXwsBBpBRQS56/s2048/15-Seasons-Greetings-HD-Wallpapers-Stock-Images-Winter-Pictures-For-2020-10-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1365" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUHA9vi4DvxY76hkCAhBjTgBbicS0nR4I1rig4QzbgMP6Wr11VjOrF3HH9z8yrArcXniwyyaxLCg-IXgS3yn6VIXTMVl69fjcfCQrwk5FAJJQW5bFDgLK5it0nXwsBBpBRQS56/s320/15-Seasons-Greetings-HD-Wallpapers-Stock-Images-Winter-Pictures-For-2020-10-1.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></span></div><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span></span><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Season's Greetings from the person, place and thing know as CBennettworld.
All my imaginary employees wish you and your family peace, prosperity and good
health in 2021 and beyond. Everyone, from the assembly line workers who package
those last minute items you ordered online to the management team that
oppresses them, wish you and your loved and tolerable ones joy this holiday
season.</span></span><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span></span><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">And what a holiday season it is! No attempts at conversation
with more successful peers at festive unions gatherings, no choking down
freezer burned hor d'oeuvres at recovery meetings, no guilt about not shopping
for gifts online or at the mall <span> </span>-- this truly
is a season of blessings for the introvert, the indifferent, or the selfish. </span></span></p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">
</span></span><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Of course, a monolith like CBennettworld must make a display
of charitable endeavours. To that end, we have delivered a wagon full of
remaindered goods to a local homeless shelter, including Hai Karate
(dealcoholized),<span> </span>Easy-Bake Ovens, and
Carolyn Bennett's debut novel <i>Please
Stand By</i>. We also have pledged 775 million dollars to send a Canadian to
the moon, to scout for suitable locations for our warehouse expansion. We hope
to be manufacturing something on the moon by 2025, and have signed an exclusive
deal with Tim Horton's to be the official lunar coffee chain in our retail
stores. We are a forward-looking conglomerate, and right now, I am looking
forward at a guy leaf-blowing garbage off the sidewalk and onto the street in
front of his house.</span></span></p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">
</span></span><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">2020 started off with optimism and is ending with despair. I
think it was Job, or Justin Bieber, who said "the Lord giveth and the lord
taketh away." As a thought leader, I would like to offer a comforting take
on that phrase -- "but the Lord giveth <i>again</i>,
and will taketh away again, and then giveth <i>again</i>,
and then taketh away again, and so on." <span> </span></span></span></p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">
</span></span><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">It's not the end of civilization as we know it; it's the beginning of the end of civilization as
we know it. Would that be so bad? Would eliminating social, racial and economic
inequality be so bad? Would cleaning our environment, inventing green
technologies to power our world, and allowing for arts, culture and scientific
exploration to flourish be so bad? Would being kinder to each other and cutting
each other some slack be so bad? </span></span></p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">
</span></span><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Do we need to produce any more useless crap on this earth?
No! Because we will be doing that on the moon in 2025, fingers crossed.</span></span></p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">
</span></span><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">In the meantime, from my stent-filled heart to yours, my
imaginary employees and I wish you a calm and bright Christmas, miles away from
family and friends. We're all in this together.</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Signed,</span></span></p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">
</span></span><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Imaginary CEO</span></span></p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">
</span></span><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">CBennettworld</span></span></p>
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<![endif]--></p>Carolyn Bennetthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05512871717902253504noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34287184.post-48160682842648805962020-11-16T11:09:00.002-08:002020-11-16T11:09:59.757-08:00News of the CBennettworld<div class="sqs-block html-block sqs-block-html" data-block-type="2" id="block-3965bcba759160260d56"><div class="sqs-block-content"><p class="" style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-80Epfj8LMoHpnP3y9J2m99UW1cfS8m3DgGRjG8aUzuH9dmEgDHhcoPPm6paHod2BkmRO94vswq7DCfnWFKQZjd5-BFXMJ6W6FXuzNzOC3dAKE9PWPs_9m8qfZx9j54K4nLeO/s530/TAC_FCOT_logo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="274" data-original-width="530" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-80Epfj8LMoHpnP3y9J2m99UW1cfS8m3DgGRjG8aUzuH9dmEgDHhcoPPm6paHod2BkmRO94vswq7DCfnWFKQZjd5-BFXMJ6W6FXuzNzOC3dAKE9PWPs_9m8qfZx9j54K4nLeO/s320/TAC_FCOT_logo.jpg" width="320" /></a><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;">Greetings this day in November 2020. </span></span></div><p></p><p class="" style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">I am happy, if not shocked, to report that I have received a Toronto Arts Council grant to support a new writing project. Please keep an eye out for short stories penned by me and collected under the title <em>Going in a Different Direction,</em> publication date TBA.</span></p><p class="" style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">And if you are available Monday, November 23 at 1PM, please join me as I participate in the panel discussion <em>Isolation, Disruption, and the Healing Benefit of the Arts</em>. The discussion is part of the annual conference of the Canadian Senior Artists’ Resource Network (CSARN). Registration is free. https://www.csarn.ca/conference/</span></p><p class="" style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">Stay well, cats.</span></p><p class="" style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </p><p class="" data-rte-preserve-empty="true" style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></p></div></div><p> </p>Carolyn Bennetthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05512871717902253504noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34287184.post-35450909518132554222020-09-21T16:00:00.006-07:002020-10-19T06:14:55.119-07:00I Miss Stage 1<p><span style="background-color: white;">I </span><span color="rgba(79, 83, 99, 0.6)" style="background-color: white; font-family: europa; font-size: 28px; white-space: pre-wrap;">miss Stage 1</span></p><p style="background-color: white; color: rgba(79, 83, 99, 0.6); font-family: europa; font-size: 28px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;">It was good fun</p><p style="background-color: white; color: rgba(79, 83, 99, 0.6); font-family: europa; font-size: 28px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;">hanging in my jammies</p><p style="background-color: white; color: rgba(79, 83, 99, 0.6); font-family: europa; font-size: 28px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;">having little nappies</p><p style="background-color: white; color: rgba(79, 83, 99, 0.6); font-family: europa; font-size: 28px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;">in the afternoon</p><p style="background-color: white; color: rgba(79, 83, 99, 0.6); font-family: europa; font-size: 28px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;">it went so soon</p><p style="background-color: white; color: rgba(79, 83, 99, 0.6); font-family: europa; font-size: 28px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;">Grocery clerks were heroes</p><p style="background-color: white; color: rgba(79, 83, 99, 0.6); font-family: europa; font-size: 28px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;">celebrities were zeros</p><p style="background-color: white; color: rgba(79, 83, 99, 0.6); font-family: europa; font-size: 28px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;">you couldn’t see me</p><p style="background-color: white; color: rgba(79, 83, 99, 0.6); font-family: europa; font-size: 28px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;">I had on homemade PPE</p><p style="background-color: white; color: rgba(79, 83, 99, 0.6); font-family: europa; font-size: 28px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;">I miss Stage 1</p><p style="background-color: white; color: rgba(79, 83, 99, 0.6); font-family: europa; font-size: 28px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;">I miss Stage 1</p><p style="background-color: white; color: rgba(79, 83, 99, 0.6); font-family: europa; font-size: 28px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;">it was good fun</p><p style="background-color: white; color: rgba(79, 83, 99, 0.6); font-family: europa; font-size: 28px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;">Unless you had Covid-19</p><p style="background-color: white; color: rgba(79, 83, 99, 0.6); font-family: europa; font-size: 28px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;">Devastation not foreseen</p><p style="background-color: white; color: rgba(79, 83, 99, 0.6); font-family: europa; font-size: 28px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;">Except by those in the know</p><p style="background-color: white; color: rgba(79, 83, 99, 0.6); font-family: europa; font-size: 28px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;">Sounding the alarm</p><p style="background-color: white; color: rgba(79, 83, 99, 0.6); font-family: europa; font-size: 28px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;">Of the virus’ great harm</p><p style="background-color: white; color: rgba(79, 83, 99, 0.6); font-family: europa; font-size: 28px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;">Rest of us ate treats like fudge</p><p style="background-color: white; color: rgba(79, 83, 99, 0.6); font-family: europa; font-size: 28px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;">Now we have pandemic pudge</p><p style="background-color: white; color: rgba(79, 83, 99, 0.6); font-family: europa; font-size: 28px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;">But at least we’re still breathing</p><p style="background-color: white; color: rgba(79, 83, 99, 0.6); font-family: europa; font-size: 28px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;">our babies now be teething</p><p style="background-color: white; color: rgba(79, 83, 99, 0.6); font-family: europa; font-size: 28px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;">but we’re the lucky ones</p><p style="background-color: white; color: rgba(79, 83, 99, 0.6); font-family: europa; font-size: 28px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;">we haven’t died from guns</p><p style="background-color: white; color: rgba(79, 83, 99, 0.6); font-family: europa; font-size: 28px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;">we can login</p><p style="background-color: white; color: rgba(79, 83, 99, 0.6); font-family: europa; font-size: 28px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;">sip bespoke gin</p><p style="background-color: white; color: rgba(79, 83, 99, 0.6); font-family: europa; font-size: 28px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;">and be at work with no commute.</p><p style="background-color: white; color: rgba(79, 83, 99, 0.6); font-family: europa; font-size: 28px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;">our shrunken lives we must compute</p><p style="background-color: white; color: rgba(79, 83, 99, 0.6); font-family: europa; font-size: 28px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;">That’s why I Miss Stage 1</p><p style="background-color: white; color: rgba(79, 83, 99, 0.6); font-family: europa; font-size: 28px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;">when everyone had fun</p><p style="background-color: white; color: rgba(79, 83, 99, 0.6); font-family: europa; font-size: 28px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;">hanging out in jammies</p><p style="background-color: white; color: rgba(79, 83, 99, 0.6); font-family: europa; font-size: 28px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;">having little nappies</p><p style="background-color: white; color: rgba(79, 83, 99, 0.6); font-family: europa; font-size: 28px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;">Nature said Time out</p><p style="background-color: white; color: rgba(79, 83, 99, 0.6); font-family: europa; font-size: 28px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;">you need to layabout</p><p style="background-color: white; color: rgba(79, 83, 99, 0.6); font-family: europa; font-size: 28px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;">Let me have some rest</p><p style="background-color: white; color: rgba(79, 83, 99, 0.6); font-family: europa; font-size: 28px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;">While I put you to the test</p><p style="background-color: white; color: rgba(79, 83, 99, 0.6); font-family: europa; font-size: 28px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;">stay still</p><p style="background-color: white; color: rgba(79, 83, 99, 0.6); font-family: europa; font-size: 28px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;">or I will kill</p><p style="background-color: white; color: rgba(79, 83, 99, 0.6); font-family: europa; font-size: 28px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;">You.</p><div><br /></div><p data-rte-preserve-empty="true" style="background-color: white; color: rgba(79, 83, 99, 0.6); font-family: europa; font-size: 28px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;"></p><p data-rte-preserve-empty="true" style="background-color: white; color: rgba(79, 83, 99, 0.6); font-family: europa; font-size: 28px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;"></p>Carolyn Bennetthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05512871717902253504noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34287184.post-63300917762606765052020-06-21T14:40:00.000-07:002020-06-21T14:40:02.868-07:00Cancel Culture: A Ten Minute Play<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAQSi1UjJBbizUAFgFRQwA-L-d9AjFn1ElJRZzCcIjujmWRiZpIRJPKZmJGA_E5r8xinYJ2Nd91h1e0y61r7_qasgJ5jHDhotY12GSwXQ401p-AT6gO7ZZ1dXPFKR5TePRWdIA/s1600/balloon-bunch-sunlight-smile.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="font-family: Arial; font-style: italic; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="607" data-original-width="910" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAQSi1UjJBbizUAFgFRQwA-L-d9AjFn1ElJRZzCcIjujmWRiZpIRJPKZmJGA_E5r8xinYJ2Nd91h1e0y61r7_qasgJ5jHDhotY12GSwXQ401p-AT6gO7ZZ1dXPFKR5TePRWdIA/s640/balloon-bunch-sunlight-smile.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><br /></span></b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Cancel Culture: A Ten Minute Play<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial;"><b>Written: February 2020</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial;"><b>By: Carolyn Bennett</b></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Characters:<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Carmen: 65 <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Jody: 55<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">David: 65ish <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Taylor: teenager <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Time:</span></b><span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"> The
present<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Scene:</span></b><span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"> Hall. A few celebratory helium balloons decorate the space. A tense
Carmen places a table cloth on a table, smoothing and fussing with it. Jody
enters.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Carmen: So?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Jody: Nope. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Carmen: So we have --<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Jody: Nobody.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Carman: Nobody?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Jody: Nobody.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">pause<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Carmen: Nobody?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Jody: No .. body.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Carmen: Great. Just great. C’mon. There’s got to be somebody.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i><span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Jody pulls out list and reads<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Jody: Winston Aaron no.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Carol
Abascal, no. Janice Abbate, no. Pauline Abbott, no. Gina Abbruzzese, no, Moza
Abbuhl, no --<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Carmen: You’re going alphabetically.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Jody: I’m going alphabetically. I can go by street address or postal
code if you want.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i><span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Carmen waves Jody off. Her phone rings. Carmen answers.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Carmen: Hello it’s Carmen. Oh, it’s you. Yeah, yeah. See you soon.<i><o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Jody: Dave?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Carmen: Dave.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Jody: Dave counts.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Carmen: No he doesn’t – he’s my husband. Can’t you find someone? Anyone
to volunteer?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Jody: You want me to find volunteers to volunteer for the volunteer
appreciation night?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Carmen: It’s just a suggestion<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Jody: Do you want me to pull people off the street?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Carmen: ... naw, better not. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Jody: I was joking.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Carmen: That’s how we did it in the old days. If we were short Meals on
Wheels runners, we’d knock on a neighbour’s door and ask to borrow their kids
for a few hours. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Jody: Really?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Carmen: No, but it sounds good. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Jody: Hmm. What about Irwin? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Carmen: Dead.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Jody: Dead?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Carmen: Dead. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Jody: Really? I just saw him last ... uh... yeah, so that’s why I
haven’t seen him lately. What about Madeleine?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Carmen: Moved.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Jody: Craig?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Carmen: Hospitalized.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Jody: Agnes?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Carmen: Dead.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Jody: Doesn’t she have a .. proxy?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Carmen: This isn’t an election.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i><span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Dave enters with bags of chips, etc..<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Dave: What time is it?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Jody: Quarter to.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i><span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Dave looks around<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Dave: This is it?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Bumbaclot!
Honest to god!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Carmen: Did you get Cheezies.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Dave: Yeah.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i><span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Pulls orange puffs out of shopping bag.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Carmen: What are these?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">David: Cheesies.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Carmen: No they’re not. (Reads package) These are Cheesys. Cheesys with
an “s” and a “y”.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">David: So?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Carmen: I asked for Cheezies. With a “z” and an “ie”.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">David: ... what are you talking about?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Carmen:: Did you get these at Dollar Tree? Our account is with
Dollarolio now. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">David: Then they should be pronounced Cheezz<i>z</i>ee<i>zz</i>!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Carmen: Ok! <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Let’s just calm down.
Let’s regroup.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Jody: How about we just group.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Dave: (to Carmen) Look, sweets, you’ve had a good run. Done some good
things around here. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Jody: Dave’s right, Carmen.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Dave: You’ve built playgrounds for kids. You’ve delivered thousands of
meals to seniors. You’ve provided skills training for people living with
disabilities. You’ve helped build the community up. But maybe now’s the time to
say – fuck ‘em <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Jody: Dave has a point, Carm.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Carmen: The Board is gonna be here any minute... we're screwed.. Can you
be .. bigger.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Dave: Bigger?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Carmen: Yeah. Puff up your chest. Fill up the room more. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Dave: You’re always telling me to lose weight. Now you want me to be
bigger.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Jody: Maybe it’s time we took a package.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Carmen: Package? Of what? Where? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Jody: No, a package. As in thanks for your dedicated service, blah blah
blah, here’s two years salary and don’t let the door hit you on the way out.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Dave: There’s a package? What about for volunteers?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Jody: You might get doughnuts.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Carmen: I haven’t heard anything about a package.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Jody: That’s because you don’t hang out in the lunchroom.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Carmen: My work here is not done. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Jody: But it looks like <u>the </u>work around here might be done.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i><span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Carmen sighs, busies herself with the Cheesys, goes off stage to look
for a bowl.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Dave: There’s a package?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Jody: There’s talk of a package. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Dave: I wish there was more I could do. Could have done. I mean, I know
--<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Jody: -- you weren’t well, Dave. You’re better now. You didn’t plan to
get sick. You’re helping us now.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Dave: I’m not bringing in any money.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Jody: That will come again.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i><span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Carmen returns with Cheesys in a bowl, and looking at her phone.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Dave: Will it?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Carman: Linda cancelled. That makes it official. Not a single volunteer
is coming to the volunteer appreciation night.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Dave: I’m here.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Carmen: You don’t -- <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Jody: -- That’s right, Dave’s here. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i><span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">A door sounds off stage. Footsteps. They turn their heads towards the
sound.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Carmen: I think the Board’s here.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Bet you it’s Charles. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Jody: Maybe the volunteers will show up. Later.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Carmen: He’s gonna give his speech and leave. (beat) We tried. We’ve
tried all our lives.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i><span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">A teenager wearing a backpack enters. She stops. She looks at them and
they look at her.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Carmen: Can I help you?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Taylor: Is this, uh --<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Carmen: Are you looking for the teen writing club? It’s down the hall.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Taylor: (looks at her phone then
texts. Beat) Is this .. are you, Carman?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Carmen: Yes. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Taylor: Hi. (extends hand). I’m Taylor.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Carmen: Hello.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Taylor: Yeah, um, the Board of Directors couldn’t make it tonight, so
I’m filling in.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Jody: You?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Taylor: I know, right?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Carmen: What do you mean the Board couldn’t make it?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Taylor: The Board.. for the non-profit. This one.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Jody: No one? All five members?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Taylor: Everyone is busy. So I --<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Dave: Volunteered?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Taylor: I know, right?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i><span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Dave extends his hand<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Dave: Nice to meet you. Look at that – we have a volunteer!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Taylor: (shakes his hand) Nice to meet you too. I’m Taylor. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Dave: I’m Dave. A volunteer.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Taylor: Mr. Weal – Charles – is my dad. So is this it? Did I miss it? Is
it over, or what?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Jody: Uh, yes. Yes, we’re just wrapping up --<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Carmen: No we’re not, we’re --<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Taylor: -- I’m a complete dumbo when it comes to time. My phone says
it’s 2 a.m. It thinks it’s still in Paris. It has a mind of its own. And
honestly, I’m too, I don’t know, kinda depressed to change it back. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Carmen: The appreciation night hasn’t started yet. No one has shown up.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i><span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Beat. Taylor laughs.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Taylor: That’s hilarious!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Jody: Carmen – you crack me up.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i><span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Jody laughs, then stares at Dave to laugh. Dave starts laughing. Carmen
glares at them.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Taylor: Listen, I have remarks I have to deliver on behalf of the Board.
Is it okay if I just say them to you?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Jody/Dave: Yes<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Carmen: No.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Taylor: Thanks so much. This won’t take long. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i><span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">She clears her throat and reads off her phone. She struggles with it.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Taylor: Thank you ... placeholder ...for your kind introduction. MPP
Saunderson. Your Worship. Reverend Livingston. Ladies and Gentleman. I am
pleased to -- <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Jody: -- Taylor, why don’t you stand over here so we can see you better.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i><span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Jody moves Taylor over to one side, so she stands in front of Jody, Dave
and Carmen<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Jody: Better. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Taylor: Thank you .. placeholder --<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Jody/Dave: Carmen--<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Taylor:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Thank you Carmen, for
your kind introduction. MPP Saunderson. Your Worship. Reverend Livingston.
Ladies and Gentleman. I am pleased to join you tonight to celebrate the women
and men who give so freely of their time to be of service to our community. What
is a volunteer? According to the Cambridge dictionary, a volunteer is a noun
that means a person who does something, especially helping other people,
willingly and without being forced or paid to do it. According to Merriam dash
Webster dot com, a volunteer is a noun that means someone --<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Carmen: You don’t have to do this. It’s fine. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Taylor: Yeah, this is awkward. There's just one important thing I have
to tell Carmen and Jody in private. Is that --<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Carmen/Jody: Yup/us.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Taylor: O.k. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i><span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">She looks at Dave<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Dave: I’ll go stand over there.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i><span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Dave stands apart from the women.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Taylor: OK. <i>(reads from her phone)</i> The Board has entered into an
agreement with TockTech to acquire humanoid robots for elder and child care
duties. This may result in redundancies within the organization.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Carmen: What! No. No No, stop. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Taylor: That was the whole message anyway.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Carmen: No. The Board bails on volunteer appreciation night, and then
send a kid<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>-- no offense -- to tell us
we’re being replaced by robots? You know what? Fuck ‘em!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Jody: (<i>laughs uncomfortably)</i>– Carmen you’re hilarious. Isn’t
Carmen hilarious Dave?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Dave: I dunno – is she? Am I supposed to listen?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Carmen: Actually, they can go to hell.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Jody: Oh Carm, you really are killing it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Taylor:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Oh gosh, I gotta show you
something else. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i><span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Taylor digs in her backpack and pulls out an Alexa type speaker device<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">This is part of the new AI social services thing the Board wants to
initiate.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i><span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">She places the speaker on the table<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Go ahead. Ask Hubert anything.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Jody: Hubert?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i><span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Speaker voice responds<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Hubert: The capitol of Ethiopia is Addis Ababa.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Jody: Are you taking our jobs?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Hubert: Not me, but an army of cute, cuddly robots. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Dave: What about volunteers?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Hubert: No we still need humans for that.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Dave: Good luck, voice in the box!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Hubert:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Do you mean Jack in the
Box?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Carmen: Do we get a package?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Hubert: That is TBD. Confidential.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Carmen and Jody react <o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Taylor: Hubert. Reassure these agitated older people.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Hubert: <i>(softly): </i>Sssshhh. There, there. Sshhhh. Repeat after me.
I’m not lonely.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Dave: I’m not lonely.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Hubert: I’m not lonely.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Dave: I'm not lonely<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Carmen looks bewildered.
Taylor puts a hand on her shoulder. <o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Taylor: It only works if you participate. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN"><span style="font-family: Arial;">Taylor pulls her hand away
from Carmen's shoulder, wipes her hands with sanitizer, and exits. <o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Soft spotlight on Dave, Jody
and Carme<o:p></o:p></span></i><i style="font-family: Arial; text-align: center;"><span lang="EN">n fades as they speak</span></i></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Hubert: I’m not lonely.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Dave//Jody: I’m not lonely.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Hubert: I’m not lonely.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Dave//Jody: I’m not lonely.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Carman: I am.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i><span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Black<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i><span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">End<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<br />Carolyn Bennetthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05512871717902253504noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34287184.post-59797658676492926542020-04-30T10:15:00.001-07:002020-04-30T10:15:13.645-07:00Elevator Pitch: April 2020, Toronto <br />
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<span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: 14.0pt;"> The
elevator slowed. The 68 button lit up.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: 14.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>"Don't come in. Don't come in .
Don't come in."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: 14.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The elevator stopped at the 68th
floor.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: 14.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I searched for the close door button
with my elbow, aimed, and leaned my weight into it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For crying out loud, I was only going to the
pharmacy to buy some generic desloratadine. Yes, I should have be shopping for
a month's worth of groceries, but I get them delivered and besides, I was ready
to rip out my eyes and serve them up to my followers on Instagram. Here -- have
my itchy, watery, burning eyes, bitches.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: 14.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The doors parted with a tinny rumble.
For a moment, stillness, as if someone had snapped a photo. The taupe wall, the
utilitarian mauve carpet, someone's ideas of 2015 functional opulence. I was
suckered, I must admit. I'm no longer a suckee. I got wise. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: 14.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>And that's why I dread seeing him.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: 14.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I didn't know I was holding my breath,
my hope was that intense. I tucked my head down. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Please don't let it be him.</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: 14.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The first thing I saw were his black 10
percent leather Oxfords and his statement socks, socks detailed with intricate
mushrooms. Even through my blurry vision, I could see mushrooms, like hovering
spaceships. I wish. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: 14.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I kept my head down, but there was no
point. Sometimes you have to look your tormentor in the eye.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: 14.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>He began. "Okay. How about this.
Masks for dogs."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: 14.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>He had his grey blazer on, again, of
inferior make, but business casual passable. I had to, had to respond because
I'm conditioned by god knows what to be accommodating, even to <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">this</i> guy.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: 14.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>"Being made by the thousands in </span><st1:state><st1:place><span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: 14.0pt;">Oklahoma</span></st1:place></st1:state><span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: 14.0pt;"> as we speak." I kept my
fists clenched in my hoodie pockets. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: 14.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>"Okay." He drummed his
fingers on his smooth shaven cheeks, again, kudos to him. "Cats?"<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: 14.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>"Probably. Look, I don't want to
appear--"<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: 14.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>"What about a show about a guy, a
sales guy who's been laid off, who ... hustles his neighbours to invest in his
ideas?"<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: 14.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I shot a desperate look at the floor
button panel. Buttons lit up in succession-- 60, 59, 58 -- wasn't anyone in the
building going out for air?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: 14.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>"Or delivering balloons to
construction workers? To cheer them up? They're front line workers, aren't
they? Or what about -- the Real Housewives of Toronto, but they're all drag
queens? That's good! Don't you think that's good?"<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: 14.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The elevator slowed and stopped at the
49th floor. The doors parted to reveal a young woman wearing a rhinestone mask
and clutching an Affenpinscher. She saw us and shook her head.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: 14.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>"No. it's okay!" I said.
"There's enough room in here. We can fit three."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: 14.0pt;">The elevator
doors closed as she took a step back.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: 14.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>"Robots. I mean, come on, it's
about time. A little after the fact, even. Hair cutting robots?"<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: 14.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>"Prototypes in </span><st1:country-region><st1:place><span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: 14.0pt;">Japan</span></st1:place></st1:country-region><span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: 14.0pt;">. They also cut your toenails and
give you a massage." I couldn't bring myself to tell him about the happy
ending.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: 14.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>"A vaccine?"<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: 14.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>"Of course."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: 14.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>"Yeah, I can't get that
together" He tapped his forehead with his index finger. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: 14.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I cursed my laptop's camera.
Communication, I have come to understand, is not always an individual's obligation
to society. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: 14.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>"Listen," he spread his
hands wide, by his own side and at a safe distance, "one channel. For
everything. For our televisions, for our dishwashers, our beds, thermostats,
heartbeats, cars --<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: 14.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>"Internet of Things. Now please,
I have nothing to --<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: 14.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>"But you do, Jessica. You're an
influencer. You have a million followers. And I'm just some <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">guy</i>. You know what I have in my fridge?
A quarter of a burrito and truffle poutine from last week. I don't want to go
to the food bank! How about -- hair extension extensions?"<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: 14.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The elevator dropped, kept dropping, down,
down, and bereft, I saw my eventual death, and his eventual death, as frivolous.
Still, I caught his pleading gaze. There was nothing I could do.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: 14.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>"Let me see what I can do."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: 14.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>He grinned weakly. He was no idiot. Between
us nothing but white noise, then his "thank you."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: 14.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Small mercies. Desloratadine was on
sale.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />Carolyn Bennetthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05512871717902253504noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34287184.post-22399177912978625772020-03-30T13:09:00.000-07:002020-03-30T13:09:07.163-07:00Letters from a Community Non-profit Worker. Toronto. 2020<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgH7mSvkbDLJKVRH7w62_zeAY4OgIQwWd2-B4Ch423InODLAtE6qJIAeQuMp5XjAJerZYC9vVL2taeP5fWkDDrYEb_1A7qVNouBAnM8tswsyNRmXYzz7XK0-_-MAJJ8IAlZw-6i/s1600/letters.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1141" data-original-width="729" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgH7mSvkbDLJKVRH7w62_zeAY4OgIQwWd2-B4Ch423InODLAtE6qJIAeQuMp5XjAJerZYC9vVL2taeP5fWkDDrYEb_1A7qVNouBAnM8tswsyNRmXYzz7XK0-_-MAJJ8IAlZw-6i/s320/letters.jpg" width="204" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.0pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span><st1:date day="13" month="1" year="2020"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.0pt;">January 13, 2020</span></st1:date><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 14pt;">. Dear Mother. You've been dead for
almost two years and now I can finally get a word in edgewise. It feels strange
not hearing your criticism and sarcasm. I have a reservoir of your greatest
hits to drawn upon though, so I'll continue being hard on myself in your
absence.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>You may be pleased to know I've been
hired by a non-profit where I've been volunteering. The non-profit is a community
support service that helps seniors and persons living with disabilities. I have
no kids and have had a good run in the arts, so the lousy pay is not a
deterrent. I have enormous respect for the staff, so if I keep my mouth shut
and do as I'm told, I should be able to hold down this job for a month or two.
A tall order, I am aware. Cautiously yours, Carolyn.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<st1:date day="31" month="1" year="2020"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.0pt;">January 31, 2020</span></st1:date><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.0pt;">. Dear Mother: I'm being trained on
a client management computer system. The Meals on Wheels (MOW) Supervisor
instructs me orally, and I write down every word. I compiled all the
information she's given so far and wrote up a procedure manual, which I
presented to her. She sniffed and gave me a curious look. Am I odd to do this? Why
can't I trust my memory? Oh yeah -- all the pot smoking I did as a teenager.
Riighhhtttt.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<st1:date day="3" month="2" year="2020"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.0pt;">February 3, 2020</span></st1:date><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.0pt;">.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Dear Mother: I overheard a video coming from the desk of C., the PSW
Supervisor with whom I share an office. One of her PSW's brought the video to
C.'s attention. The video sounded the alarm about the novel coronavirus that's
due to spread globally. "The World Health Organization doesn't have a clue
and isn't equipped to deal with this," insisted a woman's voice.
"This virus is spread through the nose, mouth and eyes. Governments are
doing nothing. They're carrying on like it's business as usual. Millions of
people are going to die."<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When the
PSW left the office, I went over to C's cubicle and questioned the news source.
A virus transmitted through the eyes? Sounds like science fiction to me. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>This job is far more stressful than I
ever imagined. The title of Office Administrator was false and misleading
advertising. It's more like Lackey for Every Department Chronically
Understaffed.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<st1:date day="11" month="2" year="2020"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.0pt;">February 11, 2020</span></st1:date><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.0pt;">. Hello Mother: I am home sick with
a cough, headache and fatigue. Just taking the day off, mind you. How were you
a nurse in a hospital oncology ward all those years and never call in sick?
Maybe it's because you lived with six teenagers and a husband in a small house and
work was your escape. Now your devotion makes more sense.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I've been on this job for a month, and
it's killing me. If I'm not scrambling to find enough volunteers to deliver
meals to the community's most vulnerable, I'm desperately trying to update
ancient files for an upcoming accreditation, clearing dishes and mopping floors
at our community dining events, and booking clients for an income tax clinic. I
feel like I'm not doing any one job well. Doing stand-up comedy to a roomful of
drunken and hostile yahoos is a walk in the park compared to this. A walk in
the park -- that would be nice. Yes Mother, stiff upper lip. I hear you.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<st1:date day="28" month="2" year="2020"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.0pt;">February 28, 2020</span></st1:date><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.0pt;">. Mother: One of the managers sent
an email to the staff today, informing us that masks and gloves are available. She
asked if I wanted a mask. "Why would I need one, I'm in the office," </span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 14pt;">I said. She
handed it to me. "You might as well take it." I accepted it. She's
just doing her job.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>You know who need these masks? The
volunteers. The poor souls that schlep meals out to the community. They need
masks and gloves. No volunteer has asked for one yet, and I have been told not
to offer any. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<st1:date day="2" month="3" year="2020"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.0pt;">March 2, 2020</span></st1:date><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.0pt;">: Dear Mother: This place could not
run without volunteers. The ranks are sparse and dwindling. The Meals on Wheels
Supervisor and I deliver meals more often than not because there aren't enough
volunteers to cover our area. The ones we do have are loyal. Some are over 65,
some live with disabilities. Most have been with us for over 10 years. Every
day I tell them how great they are. Why do they volunteer? Why did I volunteer?
To serve others, with no strings attached. It's as simple as that.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<st1:date day="6" month="3" year="2020"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.0pt;">March 6, 2020</span></st1:date><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.0pt;">: Mother: The stress is getting to
veterans on staff. I hear C. reprimanding her charges now and then and letting
out a loud "help me Jesus!" when the CEO bustles in unannounced. At
first I chuckled at C.'s cries, but soon realized she wasn't being ironic.
Every now and then I'll hear gospel music or Christian hip hop and rap coming
from her cubicle. I am surrounded by people of faith. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.0pt;"> I admire
them for their reliance on a higher power. My higher power these days are the
PM, the Premier and the Mayor.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<st1:date day="19" month="3" year="2020"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.0pt;">March 19, 2020</span></st1:date><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.0pt;">. Dear Mother: The community dining
and wellness programs are shut down. Once busy dining areas for seniors are
empty. Volunteers now have disposal gloves to wear when delivering meals. Masks
are still not available. The only programming still going is Meals on Wheels
and Personal Support. Covid-19 is closing in on us. Paradoxically, the job has
never been easier. I am on my own now; the MOW Supervisor is home with her
kids. My little MOW computer procedure manual has come in very handy. Life is
being whittled to the basics.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<st1:date day="26" month="3" year="2020"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.0pt;">March 26, 2020</span></st1:date><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.0pt;">. Dear Mother: How did you face
death while on the job? How did you face your own death? I speak with
frightened, lonely seniors on the phone, assuring them that they'll receive
their meals, that our service will not stop. I think about the dear faces who
answer the door when I knock, and how they might be gone in an instant. Now I
leave the meals at their doors, knock, and hear myself say 'have a nice day'
from a hollow distance.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The Christian rap plays at a steady rate
from over the cubicle divide these days. I never thought I'd say this, but help
us Jesus.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br />Carolyn Bennetthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05512871717902253504noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34287184.post-60322582567174380842019-12-17T09:50:00.000-08:002019-12-17T09:50:08.465-08:00How to Promote Your Debut Novel Without Money, Social Media, or a Publicist<header class="entry-header" style="background-color: white; color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.7); margin-bottom: 36px;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: europa; font-size: 26px; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">My debut novel <em style="overflow-wrap: break-word;">Please Stand By</em> has been on the
shelves for a month and a half now. In that time, I am delighted to say that
over 200 books have been sold. Some of you might be thinking “that’s pathetic”.
Yes, I know Margaret Atwood’s <em style="overflow-wrap: break-word;">The Testaments</em> sold over a hundred
times that amount, but that’s only because she is an enormous success. I would
be embarrassed to be that talented.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">You may wonder how I’ve managed to sell over 200
books without any publicity. What follows are my ten tips for promoting your debut novel without money, social media posting, or a publicist: <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<strong style="overflow-wrap: break-word;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></strong></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><strong style="overflow-wrap: break-word;">1. Come From a Big Family:</strong> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">My extended family is big, with the mouths to match it. Thank god for catholic guilt. My siblings and their friends have probably snapped up 50% of the books.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><strong style="overflow-wrap: break-word;">2. Cry In Front of Your Audience at </strong><st1:city><st1:place><strong>Readings</strong></st1:place></st1:city><strong>: </strong></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">First of all, give readings. Then make sure you cry in front of your audience. Mention having a mysterious illness, or that you are being renovicted.</span></div>
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<strong style="overflow-wrap: break-word;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">3. Have Giveaways: </span></strong></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">This is recommended on Goodreads. Everybody wants something for free. Give some books away. Hand them out at busy street corners, at the laundromat, on the subway.
Go table to table in restaurants – compete with the rose sellers.</span></div>
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<strong style="overflow-wrap: break-word;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">4. Get on Television: </span></strong></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Everyone focuses on social media, but don’t discount good old fashioned television. Stand behind a reporter and wave your book at the camera. Car crashes and murder scenes</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">attract more eyeballs, so get a radio scanner and find a police channel relaying the latest tragedy near you.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><strong style="overflow-wrap: break-word;">5. Be in a Car Crash, or Involved in a Murder:</strong> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">A little extreme, but how far are you willing to go for readers? </span></div>
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<strong style="overflow-wrap: break-word;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">6. Go on Tour: </span></strong></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">There is no need to only do readings in your home town. Hit the road. Cheap means of transportation include boxcars, airplane engines, and bus roofs.</span></div>
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<strong style="overflow-wrap: break-word;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">7. Run Naked Through the Streets: </span></strong></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">A classic attention grabber. Grabber? That’s what he said! ... and promptly got arrested for.</span></div>
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<strong style="overflow-wrap: break-word;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">8: Network: </span></strong></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">This is standard advice, but raise it up a notch. Go to conferences – any conferences. Dental associations, gemmological conventions, toy train shows – those in particular</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">are known for their lonely men. These fellows are likely to buy anything from a woman who pays attention to them. </span></div>
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<strong style="overflow-wrap: break-word;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">9: Get Your Book Reviewed: </span></strong></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">This can be tough, but not impossible. It helps if you have a common name, like Carolyn Bennett, James Patterson, or Stephen King. Blackmail book columnists. Tell them
you have compromising photos of them the public may want to see. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">And finally:</span></div>
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<strong style="overflow-wrap: break-word;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">10: Write something offensive: </span></strong></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">It has to be offensive enough to attract the attention of all the political spectrum, but not so offensive that it’s delegated to the nutter bin. Lean toward outrageous, rather than putrefying.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Good luck!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">You, the Russian spies, lonely people and bleary-eyed internet addicts who stumble upon this blog may have noticed I have not updated it in some time. That is because I know have a website: </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<a href="https://www.carolynbennettwritercomic.com/"><span style="font-family: inherit;">https://www.carolynbennettwritercomic.com/</span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">You can read the latest nonsense from me there.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Finally -- Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays from Bennettworld and all my imaginary employees.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Warm wishes from a tolerable 2020.</span></div>
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Carolyn Bennetthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05512871717902253504noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34287184.post-73973617507794204832019-08-07T09:02:00.002-07:002019-08-07T09:02:49.786-07:00Born To Be A Plumber: A Story<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6HmcY833pwblzdhZ6BIlJkIdTkqiXnJiQXNJjd4oGcoGFUMHZy7-8crhQlsmZ-uQGnIo9j6e-6v6X-_xhwR0ZEfe1YLXwf3h8REx9dQr7JR1AqwmqPyup5-0syBIxzMMyjP5T/s1600/plumbing.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="168" data-original-width="300" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6HmcY833pwblzdhZ6BIlJkIdTkqiXnJiQXNJjd4oGcoGFUMHZy7-8crhQlsmZ-uQGnIo9j6e-6v6X-_xhwR0ZEfe1YLXwf3h8REx9dQr7JR1AqwmqPyup5-0syBIxzMMyjP5T/s640/plumbing.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;"> He wants to put her earrings in his mouth. He wants to lick
the smoothness of the metal, let it roll around on his tongue. Her earrings
look like water droplets, like clean, clear water, water that would quench and
rejuvenate him, make him holy. And those are just her earrings, he thinks.
Imagine the rest of her. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>She's frowning and pointing at an item on the sheet of
paper in her hand.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>"It says 3/4 inch. Not an inch and a half. That's
three quarter of an inch more. That's about" -- she puts her thumb and
index finger close together -- "this much. What am I supposed to do?"<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>She's wearing a wine-coloured scarf, </span><st1:city><st1:place><span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">bordeaux</span></st1:place></st1:city><span style="font-size: 14.0pt;"> swaddles what must be a fine white neck. The contrast
makes him tilt his head, like a confounded dog.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>She's standing in front of his white work van, waving the
sketch in her hand, then lowering it with a sigh. She brushes a strand of blond
hair away from her face and turns her head toward the house. Grey overcast sky
makes the blue coat she wears pop and zigzag in his vision. He figures he
should offer her some comfort.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>"The countertop guys should be here soon," says
Bogden. "It doesn't effect the dishwasher hook up."<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He scratches his nose and looks at her right
earring. Redemption<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>She's standing in front of his grandson's picture plastered
on the side of his van. The toddler has enormous blue eyes and is holding up a
wrench. He is adorable, or was adorable when the picture was taken. Now he's 15
and rarely lifts his head up from his phone. Underneath the picture is a proud
declaration -- Born To Be A Plumber. Bogdan prays that his grandson will put
down his phone and pick up a wrench, but his grandson shows no interest in the
trade. He shows no interest in anything, as far as Bodgan can tell. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The thought flushes him like a flu. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I don't want her to notice the picture</i>. He takes a step back, and
hopes she will follow his lead. She holds the sketch limply by her side, and it
flutters in the breeze. Her eyes are squinting toward the house. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The </span><st1:city><st1:place><span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">reno</span></st1:place></st1:city><span style="font-size: 14.0pt;"> is
almost finished, The two storey addition of a new master bedroom, new en suite
bathroom, rooftop patio and new kitchen matches the other two storey additions
in the neighbourhood. Huge windows, sliding doors, dark grey aluminium siding
-- sleek minimalism for tumultuous times.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>She's not moving. Her jaw is firm, her breath is quick, she
stares with determination, but he sees her blink, a crack of sorrow. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>He takes a deep breath to collect himself. He wants to make
her life better. He resists the urge to ask for her hand. He could measure at
her pleasure, ensure that space is precise, that everything is symmetrical. But
he is a pipe man. They don't get the glory -- the cabinetmakers do.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His work is vital but homely. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>She sighs again. Does he hear a soft moan?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>"Listen," she says finally. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>He looks into her eyes, the grey sky and blue coat stirred
together, a colour in the painter's palette on the stairs inside. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Suddenly, he's following her into the house. She's moving
quickly, through the front door, passed the painters and the finishers and into
the spacious kitchen and living room space. His arthritic legs, two rusty
pipes, carry him along. She runs her hand over the kitchen island's granite
countertop and then tries to open a drawer underneath. The drawer stops at the
lip of the countertop.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>"This is," she says, her voice trembling
"unacceptable." <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>She turns away and looks out the floor-to-ceiling glass
sliding doors. Bogdan also looks out the windows, at the damp autumn leaves on
the new deck. He wants to apologize for something that wasn't his
responsibility. He was born a plumber. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Born
a plumber</i>. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>"How am I going to feed my family," she asks. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>"Mam?"<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>She looks sideways at a corner of the room.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>"How am I going to feed my family? If I can't open the
drawers?"<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Bodgan fishes around his front pocket and holds his wallet.
He thumbs the leather and searches for the picture of his wife. He knows the
picture by touch -- it's resin-coated and dog eared. He caresses it with his
thumbs and gazes into the woman's eyes.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Then he remembers. He wags his finger at her and makes his
way over to the stairs. He finds the painter's palette and fans it out,
searching through the hues. The colour is a cool bath in the mountains with
her.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>"This is it," he says, "this is the colour.
Borrowed Light! Number 235. Borrowed Light!"<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>She looks at him quizzically, and he feels his throat
closing in on itself. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>"I don't know what you mean," she says.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>He makes a fist. His grandson will pick up the trade. He'll
show him how to cut holes for piping and install drains for waterlines. Get the
bastard to carry a bathtub up two floors. Bring his grandson down into a
basement to look into a pipe and get another tradesman to flush a toilet to let
water and shit rain on his grandson's face. His grandson, no longer a toddler
like he once was, just seemed to be, not long ago. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Bogdan clears his throat and places the colour wheel on the
counter.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>"This colour. This colour is popular with
clients," he says. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>She glances at the paint chip. "It's more of a wash,
really," she offers. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>He hears heavy footsteps approaching. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>"I think the counter top guys are here. It will be
okay."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>He wants her to be okay, but doesn't say so. Instead, he looks
around for some tools to take to the van. He grabs a few wrenches and hammers
and leaves, brushing by the counter guys.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Taking the stairs slowly, he heads to his van, his toddler
grandson looming large on the side panel. Bodgan makes his way slowly,
reminding himself that he has no mortgage, no debt, and makes lots of money. He
gives the tools in his hands a light squeeze. Yep. Born to be a plumber.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />Carolyn Bennetthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05512871717902253504noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34287184.post-54107506221493441032019-06-07T07:46:00.001-07:002019-06-07T07:46:58.673-07:00The Raptors Have Already Won<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://encrypted-tbn0.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcSSavgWdfV-W4OR_7rzuBFJ1jDrmL3wHFLJiYOBI4wY6RYnbVtslA" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Image result for kawhi leonard game 7" border="0" height="221" src="https://encrypted-tbn0.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcSSavgWdfV-W4OR_7rzuBFJ1jDrmL3wHFLJiYOBI4wY6RYnbVtslA" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo: Mark Blinch Copyright: 2019 NBAE</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>Homage to Walt Whitman's I Heard </i><st1:country-region><st1:place><i>America</i></st1:place></st1:country-region></span><i><span style="font-size: x-small;"> Singing.</span></i><br />
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<h2>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Garamond;">I
Heard </span><st1:city><st1:place><span style="font-family: Garamond;">Toronto</span></st1:place></st1:city><span style="font-family: Garamond;"> Singing</span></span></h2>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: Garamond;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;">I hear </span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><st1:city><st1:place><span style="color: black; font-family: Garamond;">Toronto</span></st1:place></st1:city><span style="color: black; font-family: Garamond;"> singing, the varied
carols I hear,<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: Garamond;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Those of Raptor fans, each one singing
their/they as it should be delirious and enraptured,<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: Garamond;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The dishwasher singing their as they craft a
homemade sign,<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: Garamond;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The administrative assistant singing their
as they make ready to cheer, and leaves off work,<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: Garamond;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The retail worker singing Drake from their store, the programmer singing anticipation at the computer,<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: Garamond;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The street food vendor singing as they feed
throngs from truck, the beggar singing hopeful as they sit with hand outstretched,<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: black; font-family: Garamond;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The sports commentator's song, the City
employee on their way in the morning, or at </span><st1:time hour="12" minute="0"><span style="color: black; font-family: Garamond;">noon</span></st1:time><span style="color: black; font-family: Garamond;"> intermission or at
sundown,<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: Garamond;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The delicious singing of the fan, or of the
young fan aloft on parent's shoulder, or of the groups of friends hugging,
jumping joy,<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: Garamond;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Each singing what belongs to him/her/they
and to all,<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: Garamond;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The day what belongs to the day—at night the
party of diversity, robust, friendly,<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: Garamond;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The swell of heart for the gift of each
other,<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: black; font-family: Garamond;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I hear </span><st1:city><st1:place><span style="color: black; font-family: Garamond;">Toronto</span></st1:place></st1:city><span style="color: black; font-family: Garamond;"> and </span><st1:country-region><st1:place><span style="color: black; font-family: Garamond;">Canada</span></st1:place></st1:country-region><span style="color: black; font-family: Garamond;"> singing,<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: Garamond;"><span style="font-size: large;"> Singing with open mouths their strong
melodious songs.</span><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
Carolyn Bennetthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05512871717902253504noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34287184.post-23290587558519839702019-03-17T11:08:00.000-07:002019-03-17T11:08:01.327-07:00Tunnel (A Short Story)<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiALDkFOerCCKR69l9TIeCVCyw3NTIiZ0MsYGDBKcj1JtFfAdKkuOfDxuqsMz_gm2mN5myuXNl9rYFEBXiVDUjkP3fwostvQs0DnouF1G8mDe45MfZ0ensYohI2Fh6aneHrO-Vg/s1600/tunnel.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiALDkFOerCCKR69l9TIeCVCyw3NTIiZ0MsYGDBKcj1JtFfAdKkuOfDxuqsMz_gm2mN5myuXNl9rYFEBXiVDUjkP3fwostvQs0DnouF1G8mDe45MfZ0ensYohI2Fh6aneHrO-Vg/s320/tunnel.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: xx-small;"> Photo credit: Spacing Magazine</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">My phone is busted. I
downloaded, or I'm least sure, I downloaded Money by Cardi B, but it doesn't
show up on the playlist I called Artificial Intelligensia. I like making
playlists, so don't tell me to just Spotify it all. I get to be the DJ this
way, tailoring my own personal atmosphere and my self-artistic expression and
moving all the people I visualize. It takes talent to curate music this way,
letting one song flow into another, the waves sometimes smooth, other times
choppy. I have to fall into a space that's infinite and notate the algorithms
that stream through my mind.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">My dad says I didn't create the
music, so it's not my artistic expression, I'm just a disc jockey, as he calls
it. What does he know? I mean, really, what does he know? It's because of him
that I go to therapy. My mom says I should do it for myself. but really, he's
the reason I haul my butt on the TTC and head up to Forest Hill. Mom says I
can't see a therapist in the Kingsway because that's where dad's therapist is.
What is she afraid of -- that we'll be outed in the neighbourhood for being
that family who goes to therapy in the building on the corner of Bloor and who
gives a rat's behind? Right, as if. Nobody cares, least of all me.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">Great. My Presto Card isn't
working. I put money on it, but the gate declines my card. When I look at the
fare collector's booth, the TTC employee, a young brown guy wearing a toque, is
looking down at something, maybe the counter. I go over to the booth and speak
into the speaking area and I say "My card isn't working and I just put
money on it and I don't have anymore money to put on it". I see the TTC
guy is looking at his phone, which is cool with me, hey I'm not a narc. He
looks up at me with tired, droopy eyes, like he just got bad news that's sinking
in. He acknowledges my presence, as my dad would say, and waves me through,
like this is an everyday occurrence. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">The tiles at Royal York remind
me of the bathrooms in the two houses my parents bought in </span><st1:city><st1:city><span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">High</span></st1:city><span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">
</span><st1:city><span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">Park</span></st1:city></st1:city><span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">. Whoever thought pinky-orangey tiles on the walls in
a bathroom were chic should be shot. The designer must have been taking tranqs.
She probably looked at the<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>little pinky-orangey
pills in her sweaty palm, raised her heavy-lidded eyes to the blank wall in
front of her and thought, yeah, pinky-organey tiles for everyone. The houses
have been gutted anyway, their desperate little bathrooms demolished. Goodbye
doleful, crying tiles. Hey. Maybe that's where the term weeping tiles comes
from. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">I never have much to say to Dr.
Cohen, if she is a doctor at all. I like calling her doctor, even though she
wants me to call her Ruth. When she wants me to talk or express my feelings, I
play her God's Plan by Drake, because he says it all. Wishin and wishin and
wishin and wishin. As in, my dad is wishin I'll enrol in STEM, but he knows I'm
hostile to science, technology, engineering and mathematics. Hey, at least I
know what that acronym means, dad, I say, that makes me smart right there. I
could be good at it, but I don't want to be, because it feels like I'm lost in
formulas as it stands. My mom will say 'why can't you be more like your brother
Eric.' Well, because I'm not a business scumbag who'll end up like dad. She hit
me once, my mom did. A little smack on my arm. I didn't speak to her for days.
She kept texting me to come downstairs for dinner, trying to lure me with sushi
and Uncle Testu cheesecake. She deserved a lesson. Hope that put the fear of
Child Family Services in her.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">Passing Ossington makes me
breathe a little faster. Same tiles, different colours though. Some committee
in the dark ages thought ripping off the </span><st1:city><span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">London</span></st1:city><span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">
tube would elevate our public transit and stamp </span><st1:city><span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">Toronto</span></st1:city><span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">
as worthy. Who has the last laugh now? Developers like my dad. The world became
a dart board and </span><st1:city><span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">Toronto</span></st1:city><span style="font-size: 14.0pt;"> a bullseye. Throw your money at this sleepy little
backwater folks, the people will just say thank you and sorry. I'm only 16 and
I feel 66 most days. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">A woman is shuffling from
passenger to passenger in the subway car, asking for a loonie, toonie, fiver.
There's inflation for you. I'm only in the last half of my teenaged years and I
remember when people asked for a quarter. I crank up the tunes on my phone and
close my eyes. I imagine giving this woman a wad of bills. Because that's God's
plan, according to Drake. I can feel her hovering over me now, I can smell
sourness, wet wool and piss. Even with my earbuds in I can hear her say to me "loonie,
toonie, fiver". Behind my eyelids, I picture me putting my arm around her
neck and her screaming with surprise and joy. I wave a handful of hundred
dollar bills over her head and then let them go, raining down on her like
manna. She <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>kisses me on the cheek again
and again. I can feel the loonie, twoonie fiver lady's scarf grazing my
forehead. I hold my breath and bless her from behind my eyelids as she moves
on, begging her way down the subway car until she gets off at Bathurst. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">I'm wishin wishin wishin my
parents were fire-breathing Catholics, like my friend Anika's parents. Her
parents make her go to church and care about who she hangs out with and they
won't let her date, which she does anyway behind their backs. But they don't
let her, is the point. My parents would typically "understand" and
show their "support" if I wanted to bring home someone. I wishin
wishin they worshipped something other than the Bank of Bland. I'll make them
understand me someday. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">For now, when I go into our tastefully recessed can-lit
basement slash living space and see my dad binge-watching Netflix, headphones
on, ensconced in his fat chair, hand wrapped around his drink, I won't take it
personally. But OMG he binge-watches The Crown, for Drizzy's sake. One night
when I went downstairs and pretended to look for a toy in our old toy box (as
if <i>that </i>wouldn't tip him off) I glimpsed his face as the blue light from
the tv flickered on him. His eyes were shining and tears were pooling in the bags
under his eyes. I shot a glance at the TV. Queen Elizabeth was talking to a
lady-in-waiting, as far as I could tell. I looked back at my dad. He blinked
and had a sip of his drink. I pulled out some fucking old teddy bear piece of
shit from the toy box and rang its neck. I know not to talk to my dad when he's
like that, but I wanted to so badly. I wanted to say, dad, I know where you
hide your stash and this is only a tv show and I'm sorry Aaron died of an
overdose and I miss my brother as much as you miss your son, but, fuck, <i>I'm </i>here.
Right here. Don't disintegrate on me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>But instead I start listening to Drake because at least I'm in forward
motion when I listen to music. I don't look back.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">I'm walking straight ahead now,
because I transferred at Spadina to go northbound to St. Clair West. And I'm
walking down the pedestrian tunnel. </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">I could get off at St. George
to have better odds of getting a seat, but I love this tunnel. It's like the
hallways at Havergal (Haver-gul), which I can't believe hasn't kicked me out
yet. I go straight ahead when I walk those hallways where I pace up and down with
my earbuds in, ignoring everything around me, my friends, the teachers, the
other kids. It brings me comfort to look ahead and ignore my peripheral vision.
Too many doors to open and voices that may scream.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">There's something I hear right
now though. something high and wobbly outside my phone, which keeps fucking up
because the 4G keeps dropping out so I have no data to keep Drake going. The
sound is coming from the middle of the tunnel, from someone sitting on a stool,
I think. A person in a <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>white coat drops
something by the person on the stool. I squint to see them better because my
vision is blurry. I can see my phone just fine, but distances are becoming a
problem. This phone is becoming a problem. I stuff it in my coat pocket and
take my earbuds out. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">The air is cool, and the high
wobbly sound grows and stretches. People hurry past me, their footsteps
echoing. I'm getting closer to the person on the stool. It's an old man sitting
and playing a musical instrument of sorts. The sound it produces is weird, like
a warped violin. It makes me slow down because it sounds like a wail. The old
man is Asian and he's fingering the long-necked instrument while running a
bow along a couple of strings. He plays a note and it hangs over my head like
one long cry. Its weirdness stops me. For like a minute I can't move. What is
this thing he's playing? I'm by the instrument case he has open for donations.
Suddenly the music gets very quiet and still. He leans forward and closes his
eyes and lifts his head. His hand and arm is working the bow quickly, the bow
hovering over the two strings creating a sublime tension. Then he swoops into
the strings with the bow, making sounds that hurt my heart. The notes mourn and
wobble and lift and my ears blush. In a burst with my eyes open I see a
snow-covered mountaintop and an emerald lake and my brother Aaron dipping a cup
into a stream and having a drink of water.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The old guy keeps his eyes closed and he's smiling a bit. He's right in
front of me and I'm listening. He knows I'm listening. We're both listening.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">I think I'm crying. I dig the
palm of my hand onto my right eye socket and it's wet. I cough on the sigh in
my throat. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">I'm going to be late for my
therapist appointment. I clutch for my phone and pop my earbuds in. There's a
few coins in his case and, feeling sorry for him, I dig in my purse, find a
loonie, drop it in and continue straight ahead. My face is red hot. Why do I
feel sorry for myself? I hear the northbound train below and I start rushing
down the escalator with the others to catch it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">What a strange instrument.
Should I tell Dr. Cohen what it did to me? Maybe I can learn it, if someone
teaches me. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />Carolyn Bennetthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05512871717902253504noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34287184.post-16609434436746585372018-12-17T12:19:00.000-08:002018-12-17T12:19:18.614-08:00NO CHICKEN<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJ56a3Joo8BYIGC8r6HIgQfBJQ9LPdY_9h2IKG0O9DI5w9e6t9L8abVCzKt4LnWXZUlBVK6kBvCvpaPj4Tt9V50mRlgXvFk4yx0g_SyqccamTnfSGF1G-sgWWa12igFcrWI5Ec/s1600/Signs+-+No+Chicken.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1409" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJ56a3Joo8BYIGC8r6HIgQfBJQ9LPdY_9h2IKG0O9DI5w9e6t9L8abVCzKt4LnWXZUlBVK6kBvCvpaPj4Tt9V50mRlgXvFk4yx0g_SyqccamTnfSGF1G-sgWWa12igFcrWI5Ec/s320/Signs+-+No+Chicken.jpg" width="281" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"></span> An announcement finally came.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>"Can I have your attention, please. I don't know
what to say, so I'll just say it. There's no more chicken."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>A baby shrieked, as if on cue. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Customers sitting at tables craned their necks to look at
the plump, middle-aged woman standing behind them offering the apology. She had
snuck over while families and friends at the restaurant fidgeted with their
utensils, sitting stony-faced and impatient, some attempting to comfort their
small children.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>"There is chicken pot pie and wings though,"
she said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>"What wings?" I asked. "The wings of
chickens?"<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>"Yes, chicken wings."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>"So there <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">is</i>
more chicken, in wing form and in pie?"<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>"In a way."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Customers grumbled and shrugged at each other. Tables and
booths of patrons got up to leave. The manager shrugged too.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>"I don't know what to say."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Nobody had died, I thought. Nobody was just diagnosed
with cancer. Those are the tough situations where consoling words, the words 'I
don't know what to say' evaporate. This situation existed on an absurd plane,
up there with a dog chasing its tail and Doug Ford as Premier of Ontario. Any
explanation would suffice. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>"There's a Metro grocery store across the parking
lot," Julie said to me. "Do you wanna just buy a chicken and bring it
back?"<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Christmastime with the Schapman family always holds some
adventure, whether that be shooting off forty rounds of ammo from a
semi-automatic at the neighbourhood firing range, or laying down a concrete
floor just for fun.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Paul Schapman had
come all the way from <st1:state><st1:place>Virginia</st1:place></st1:state> hankering for some Swiss Chalet rotisserie chicken. Visiting
relations was an add-on for him. I've noticed that Canadians who move down to
the States have a ardent nostalgia for Swiss Chalet. <st1:place>St. Hubert</st1:place>, I could understand, but the Swiss Chalet fandom I
find unwarranted. And now, in the festive gloom of an empty restaurant devoid
of chicken, five hungry adults had to make a decision. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>"Let's order wings," said Paul. "And the
pie."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The Schapman sisters, Julie and Linda, began punching
each other to pass the time. The smack of fist to humerus reverberated through
the abandoned dining room. </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I was wise not to sit in
between the sisters. I have made that mistake before, many, many times.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Two teenaged servers made their way to our table, heads
lowered.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>"I have some bad news," said the more senior of
the two, "there is no pastry on top of the chicken pot pie."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>"So ... it's ... stew, then," I said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>"No, it's still pie,"<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>the other one asserted.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I didn't know whether to laugh or flip the table over. I
was famished but now wary of eating anything coming out of that kitchen. Images
of microscopic salmonella bacteria multiplying flashed in my mind's eye.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>"Do you have any crackers?"<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The servers scurried away and returned with armfuls of
crackers, depositing them in a pile on our table. I tore into the individually
wrapped saltines while the Schapman sisters drank wine and Paul explained to me
the nature of his IT work in <st1:state><st1:place>Virginia</st1:place></st1:state>. I nodded, pretending to know what he was talking
about. Stomach growling, light-headed, stone cold sober, I took in my childhood
friends, the family that welcomed me as one of its own. So many years spent
with this rowdy, loyal, industrious clan, so many years of being accepted for
the mass of contradictions I am. It never failed -- the Schapmans always made
me feel better. And on this night during the festive season, at an empty Swiss
Chalet that had no chicken in <st1:place><st1:city>Guelph</st1:city>, <st1:state>Ontario</st1:state></st1:place>, only they could make the best out of a bizarre
situation.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The wings arrived eventually, dripping in some sort of
sauce. Paul chowed down and the sisters picked at the offerings. I abstained
and finished off the crackers. We called over the manager.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>"Rough night for you, eh?"<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>"What can I do? The chicken ran out."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>"One chicken, or all of them?"<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>She thought for a second and then smiled. "Oh. Now I get it. Now I get it!"<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>"Any Lindor chocolates to go with our festive
meal?" I asked hopefully.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Her expression dropped. "I don't know what to say,
but --<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> Merry Christmas and a
Happy New Year from Cbennettworld.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"></span></o:p></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6fd97yed29c0nubQfH0Vg9eMFvKLzdzXJTyjoowtmq6a31NLrXf-PR2oKYPhx2fNAvxRmF8oKGEGEDn0MJzdzB1aNj27D9owgHhNT-q_qZGRkWFha9-FfpXXzqw7jVztITNsd/s1600/unsplah.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6fd97yed29c0nubQfH0Vg9eMFvKLzdzXJTyjoowtmq6a31NLrXf-PR2oKYPhx2fNAvxRmF8oKGEGEDn0MJzdzB1aNj27D9owgHhNT-q_qZGRkWFha9-FfpXXzqw7jVztITNsd/s320/unsplah.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div>
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<br />Carolyn Bennetthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05512871717902253504noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34287184.post-24473603088101158582018-11-12T13:01:00.002-08:002018-11-12T13:01:47.857-08:00A Garbage Bag Full of Memories<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPfTKvWL0PbQYcweHQ11EsOqSl0CgxGenSyYmm7tWGL2-AioPEjhlUk6A5mxS_WPfuCAgF7OnkCN-WQ0iG4xMP8De4q7FK5c5W1X8_AqZmbBK9rj-LGk0rUu_6BAEganjFVq-D/s1600/garbage-trash-bag-500x500.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="500" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPfTKvWL0PbQYcweHQ11EsOqSl0CgxGenSyYmm7tWGL2-AioPEjhlUk6A5mxS_WPfuCAgF7OnkCN-WQ0iG4xMP8De4q7FK5c5W1X8_AqZmbBK9rj-LGk0rUu_6BAEganjFVq-D/s320/garbage-trash-bag-500x500.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo: IndiaMART</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: georgia, "times new roman", serif;">I swore I would try my
best to leave as little trace of me as possible when I kick off. When my aunt
died two years ago, I was tasked with clearing out her house and putting it on
the market. She left the place as if she
was going out to the corner store to pick up milk. The day the paramedics took her to the
hospital for the last time she had been reading that month's issue of MacLean's.
She had no intention of dying and was obstinate in the face of death. She still
had </span><i style="font-family: georgia, "times new roman", serif;">things to do</i><span style="font-family: georgia, "times new roman", serif;">. Attend the ballet.
Go out for dinner. Read the December
issue of Maclean's. But death has a way
of sneaking up on us when we least expect it, or rather, when we choose to
ignore it. So as an executor of my
aunt's estate, I was faced with the gargantuan duty of emptying out a four
bedroom house. After this emotionally
and physically draining ordeal, I vowed to clean up my act, as it were.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> And who would tidy up
after my carcass anyway? A far flung niece or nephew? An elderly sibling? Guys
in Hazmat suits? I've decided to make it easy on the poor sap who ends up
sweeping up the debris of my life.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> To this end, I recently
purged my music collection (I say collection when I really mean broken
cassettes and cds). Charity doesn't even want cassettes or cds. They are
difficult to rid oneself of, especially if they are full of tunes from The
Exploited or Crass.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I listened to some
cassettes one more time, to see if I really wanted to let them go. One listen
to </span><i style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Bloody Revolutions</i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> expunged any
nostalgia. It was much harder to say goodbye to the mixed tapes I made, with
the needle drop onto vinyl and those sweet few seconds of scratchy anticipation
before the opening notes and chords of a punk anthem or a Beethoven piano
sonata.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> I don't miss those days.
My youth was a smorgasbord of insanity. Mixed tapes for tortured emotions.
Thank God for medication and sobriety is alls I'm sayin'. Still, my formative
years shaped me into the bewildered yet loveable individual I am today. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> But why keep my extreme
and eclectic taste in music to myself? I didn't want to throw my music
collection out to the curb with the week's trash. That would not be
environmentally friendly, on many different levels. Instead, I packed a garbage
bag full of cassettes and cds, of memories both vague and horrible, and headed
up to my local Best Buy, because it has an electronic waste program.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> The fellow behind the
counter had a phosphorescent glow. I'm still not sure if he was a hologram. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>"May I help you," he said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>"Uh, yeah. Do you accept e-waste?"<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>"Yes we do. You can just leave it on the
counter."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>"Really?"<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> He sputtered, as if
someone had poured water on the motherboard in his head. "Uh, er. I.
Y-y-y-yesss. "Yes."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I cradled the bulging garbage bag in my arms. I
considered telling him what was in the bag. My anger. My sensitive and romantic
soul. My wacky show biz side. Dreams. Sobbing. Angst. Why burden him with my
memories.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>"Here you go, then. Thanks!" I unloaded the
bursting plastic bulk onto the counter. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>On my way out, I waved goodbye at it. Goodbye Undertones.
Goodbye Siouxie. Goodbye 1970s Organ Musak. When I hear those tunes again,
perhaps when I'm gliding down the aisles at FreshCo or No Frills, I'll give my
head a shake and wonder where, how and who I am.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Next month -- The Closet.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
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<br />Carolyn Bennetthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05512871717902253504noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34287184.post-70792778659989992542018-09-05T08:51:00.002-07:002018-09-05T08:51:49.515-07:00Toronto the Not So Good Anymore<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfQRemze0mHZIh-G8_TfchctrjmqlsqpvHCR0HkNB_bz6gyhG6o6K_VnrsmlZstT7gtBIZPGZdncw4bAXHJPfLqe8Pxi6FE4WqTSxlFA65NOZlGeIx1x9AH5MS1SZYBjFpFILg/s1600/yellow-crime-scene-tape-workplace-violence.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="382" data-original-width="600" height="404" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfQRemze0mHZIh-G8_TfchctrjmqlsqpvHCR0HkNB_bz6gyhG6o6K_VnrsmlZstT7gtBIZPGZdncw4bAXHJPfLqe8Pxi6FE4WqTSxlFA65NOZlGeIx1x9AH5MS1SZYBjFpFILg/s640/yellow-crime-scene-tape-workplace-violence.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<![endif]--><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> A forensic
identification services van blocks the entrance to the gas station. The other
entrance has yellow crime scene tape restricting entry. This will not do. I
need a slushie and I need it bad. The gas station serves slushies <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">par excellence.</i> That's French for
excellent, I think.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Anyway, they know me
at the gas station, it's just down the street from my place. I am a preferred
customer, according to my slushie card that gives me a free slushie after I buy
20. </span>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>"Why do you come here, miss?
Why don't you have a car?" the chap behind the counter once asked.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>"Because, sir, your slushies
are a revelation."</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>He had his back to me while I
replied. It was a rhetorical question I realized much later in the day. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>WTF? Why are the forensic dudes at
the gas station? I raise the crime scene tape over my head and head inside the
On The Go Convenience store. I like the illusion of being "on the
go." If I patronize an establishment called "On The Go", maybe
through osmosis, I too will be "on the go." </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The chap behind the counter, wearing
a reflective and carrying a mop, waves his arm at me.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>"No, no, miss. No. Go."</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>"You mean 'On The Go'."</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>"No. I mean go. Go out of
here."</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I plead with him. "It's 32
degrees today -- 42 degrees with humidity! I can't stand this anymore. Look at
what it's doing to my hair! I'd show you my overheated internal organs, but
they're inside my body. You get my point -- I'm sick of this sweltering
temperature. I'd kill for a slushie right now!"</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Two humongous police officers emerge
from behind a chip rack.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>"This store is off limits. Sir,
is this woman threatening you?" </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The chap shakes his head no.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>"Mam, I don't know how you got
in here, but leave the premise immediately."</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I know better than to argue with
authority. The last time I did that, on the Toronto Transit System, I was
slapped with a $265 fine for not tapping my Presto card (that is true). I huff
and hurry out the store, passing the forensic truck. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>WTF? Can't I go to my corner gas station
convenience store without the forensic identification unit being there? My
thoughts grow dark. Did someone die at 'On The Go'? Is that person now "On
The Gone'? Was it a shooting? A targeted shooting gangland style, or a random
act of insanity? Or a stabbing, someone blind with rage repeatedly plunging a
knife into an unsuspecting victim? Did someone collapse from poison ingested
from touching a railing at a dog parkl?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>This neighbourhood is upscale, with
families living in two millions dollars homes and renters sweating it out in
'dirty mansion' -- how dare a ne'er-do-well commit homicide in our enclave! We
have no problems here in </span><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">High</span><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Park</span><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">. We excoriate our children, cheat
on our spouses, drink and drug to excess, cheat and thieve the government, plot
murder in our minds, curl up in balls from depression and anxiety and leverage
our lives behind CLOSED DOORS! That's what respectable people do. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Will this affect the slushie
machine? </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>This city is out of control. </span></div>
Carolyn Bennetthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05512871717902253504noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34287184.post-20521451513150375982018-07-03T10:52:00.000-07:002018-07-03T10:52:23.975-07:00On Acting, Stand-Up Comedy, and Being Directed<br />
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<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijK_8i7zxTayrog2G00GGhC4aNjCPHHSmSEjpCXHDylFlkMOxmtm_uFsnU9pSfb9b8ANUGw22rSUuYn8fZ8pqyx7p2a9tpfvmh_We_IqnNbQdJYyjiUlQsCx6uW4k7BXHCcWZP/s1600/ancientgreekmask.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="821" data-original-width="800" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijK_8i7zxTayrog2G00GGhC4aNjCPHHSmSEjpCXHDylFlkMOxmtm_uFsnU9pSfb9b8ANUGw22rSUuYn8fZ8pqyx7p2a9tpfvmh_We_IqnNbQdJYyjiUlQsCx6uW4k7BXHCcWZP/s320/ancientgreekmask.jpg" width="311" /></a></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Through fault of my own, I am
performing in a solo show I wrote. </div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
From July 21 to July 28, 2018, I
will be showing and telling a <a href="https://www.kingstongrand.ca/events/double-down-helix">darkly comedic tale</a> at the Kingston
Storefront Fringe Festival. I say “through fault of own” because
I wanted to challenge myself creatively. Not content to churn out
words on screen and paper, I thought performing my own play would be
a suitable endeavour. After all, I'm a stand-up comic and although I
may not tour anymore, I still perform at Hirut Fine Ethiopian
Cuisine's Hirut Hoot, and other fine comedy establishments. How hard
could it be doing my own stuff on stage?</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Haaaarrrrddd. Hurry hhhhaaaarrrrrddd.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
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I am being put through rigorous
dramaturgical analysis, a disciplined rehearsal schedule and a
physically demanding process. This is all in thanks to my director,
Jennifer McKinley. Ms. McKinley is a writer, performer and
producer, once<span lang="en-US"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">
co-artistic director of Alumnae Theatre’s New Ideas Festival
(2014-2017) in Toronto She is a lead coordinator with the Feminist
Art Conference, and wrote, produced and performed her solo show,
</span></span></span><span lang="en-US"><i><span style="font-weight: normal;"><a href="https://www.operationsunshine.ca/">OperationSUNshine </a></span></i></span><span lang="en-US"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">at
</span></span></span><span lang="en-US"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">the
2017 Toronto Fringe, as well as at the 2018 Feminist Fuck It Festival
in Toronto. </span></span></span>
</div>
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<br />
</div>
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<span lang="en-US"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">She
is a living, breathing theatrical </span></span></span><span lang="en-US"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">artist.
She is as far away from my comfortable stand-up world as I can get.</span></span></span></div>
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<br />
</div>
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<span lang="en-US"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">I
saw </span></span></span><span lang="en-US"><i><span style="font-weight: normal;">Operation
SUNshine</span></i></span><span lang="en-US"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">
at the FFIF and thought the work unique in voice. Not only is
Jennifer a skilled performer, she has a rare ability to merge comedy
and horror, sharing personal stories powerfully and with compassion.
When I found out I won a berth in the Kingston Fringe, I contacted
Jennifer, with the hope of her having the time and interest to direct
my show. Fortunately she did and agreed to be my director. </span></span></span>
</div>
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<br />
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<span lang="en-US"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Over
the rehearsal process, I've been encouraged to feel the intensity of
my character's situation. Here's the difference between stand-up
comedy and acting in my opinion: stand-up is like being a commander.
You hit the stage, grab the mic and deliver. Your job, above all, is
to make people laugh. Material aside, that is your goal, to elicit
laughter. It is not to delve into the back story, circumstances or
sad psyche of a character. As I have learned, in theatre the actor
creates a trusting environment. The actor embraces the audience,
rather than controls it. I suppose a lot of stand-ups do this, but I
must say that is not my M.O. I think a lot of stand-up comedy comes
from a place of anger. At least, it does for me.</span></span></span></div>
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<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="en-US"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">This
feeling stuff is hard. </span></span></span>
</div>
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<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="en-US"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">As
a writer, it is essential that I feel a character. Thoroughly. Down
to the bones. In space and time. But that feeling is transmitted
through the written word. It's conjured in thought and relayed
through the body by breath held, goosebumps raised, and once in
awhile, racing heartbeat. This is the goal of the written word – to
inhabit the imagination of the reader. Feeling is not thrashed out on
stage. That is an actor's job. </span></span></span>
</div>
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<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="en-US"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">This
is the job I will be doing soon in Kingston. </span></span></span>
</div>
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<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="en-US"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">As
I said, I wanted to challenge myself creatively. That I am. I am
having my ass kicked by a social justice warrior-artist almost 20
years my junior. And I love it, my creaking knees and aching joints
aside. </span></span></span>
</div>
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<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="en-US"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">My goal is to do right by my characters, by my director, and by my stage
manager, the emerging triple threat theatre artist <a href="https://www.facebook.com/people/Natasha-Rotondaro/100007435965052">Natasha Rotondaro.</a> </span></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="en-US"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="en-US"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">I am one lucky stand-up comic and writer to have such a
dedicated team. Hope to see you in Kingston.</span></span></span></div>
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<br />Carolyn Bennetthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05512871717902253504noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34287184.post-27423997331352936782018-04-25T10:54:00.002-07:002018-04-25T10:56:22.588-07:00Toronto the Good<a href="https://i.pinimg.com/736x/48/5d/d2/485dd238601a3451715f1d89a1685816--toronto-canada-jigsaw-puzzles.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Image result for toronto skyline" border="0" class="irc_mi" height="353" src="https://i.pinimg.com/736x/48/5d/d2/485dd238601a3451715f1d89a1685816--toronto-canada-jigsaw-puzzles.jpg" style="margin-top: 0px;" width="484" /></a><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 72.75pt;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana";">As
some of you may know, I am a born and bred Montrealer. Being a Montrealer of a
certain generation, we were inculcated with a profound mistrust and contempt
for Toronto. We looked down our nose at </span><span style="font-family: "verdana";">Toronto</span><span style="font-family: "verdana";"> because it symbolized everything staid and boring
and grey. When I was growing up, </span><span style="font-family: "verdana";">Montreal</span><span style="font-family: "verdana";"> was </span><span style="font-family: "verdana";">Canada</span><span style="font-family: "verdana";">'s biggest city: its nightlife was legendary, its
hockey team supreme, its arts and culture vital to the people. When the Parti Québécois
and Bill 101 made it difficult for unilingual anglophones to imagine a life in
La Belle Province's new reality, over 100 thousand or so fled down the 401 to
settle in staid and boring and grey </span><span style="font-family: "verdana";">Toronto</span><span style="font-family: "verdana";">, I being one of them. It felt treasonous. How
could I ever adjust to this place of </span><span style="font-family: "verdana";">11 p.m.</span><span style="font-family: "verdana";"> closing times and rehashed British influence? With the last name of
Bennett I would have an easier time fitting in, but I could not relate to </span><span style="font-family: "verdana";">Toronto</span><span style="font-family: "verdana";">'s bland reason. I was used to being surrounded by
a culture that, by birth, was not mine, but one that held tremendous influence
on me. I loved being in the midst of the French because I admired the way they
lived (too bad I didn't listen more in French class when in high school). I
didn't want to live exclusively with people who looked like me and spoke the
same language as me. So for many years I worked and lived and played in </span><span style="font-family: "verdana";">Toronto</span><span style="font-family: "verdana";">, all the while feeling superior to the denizens of
the city unlucky enough to have been born and raised in </span><span style="font-family: "verdana";">Hog</span><span style="font-family: "verdana";">t</span><span style="font-family: "verdana";">own</span><span style="font-family: "verdana";">. </span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana";">And
then something happened. </span><span style="font-family: "verdana";">Toronto</span><span style="font-family: "verdana";">
transformed. It became a welcoming city for people from around the world who
wished to settle here and raise their families. It became a city that truly
embraced diversity, not just paying lip service to it, but actively promoting
it as a source of strength. It opened up and began to celebrate the LBGTQ
community, one of the most important groups in the city today. It moved with
societal change, not against it. Today, it is a powerhouse for investment and
business, science and academia, arts and culture. Who the hell would have thunk
it? Not this ex-Montrealer. </span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana";">So
in the aftermath of one of the worst mass murder in </span><span style="font-family: "verdana";">Toronto</span><span style="font-family: "verdana";">'s history, I will tell you now that ... I love
this place. This bagel chewing, Hab loving, </span><span style="font-family: "verdana";">St. Catherine Street</span><span style="font-family: "verdana";"> loitering woman loves T.O, the 6, YYZ. I love the
stretch of </span><span style="font-family: "verdana";">Yonge Street</span><span style="font-family: "verdana";">
between Finch and Sheppard, where you can get the best Korean food anywhere,
where the North York Public Library has provided me with books and a quiet
place to write, where I've danced to big band music in </span><span style="font-family: "verdana";">Mel Lastman Square</span><span style="font-family: "verdana";">. This unassuming, unpretentious stretch of </span><span style="font-family: "verdana";">Yonge Street north</span><span style="font-family: "verdana";"> of the 401 is home to Canadians from many
different backgrounds and ways of life. It is wonderful to see Korean
businesses next to Persian businesses next to Russian businesses. Keep your
food coming! is what I say. While this city is not without its racial tensions,
on the whole </span><span style="font-family: "verdana";">Toronto</span><span style="font-family: "verdana";"> comes pretty close to harmony. The biggest threat
to this city is rampant greed, but that is another blog...</span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana";">Toronto</span><span style="font-family: "verdana";"> has been good to me. It's time for me to give that
expression.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana";">There
is a vigil Sunday night at </span><span style="font-family: "verdana";">Mel Lastman Square</span><span style="font-family: "verdana";"> for the people of </span><span style="font-family: "verdana";">Toronto</span><span style="font-family: "verdana";"> to stand together and support the victims of the
van attack tragedy. On Sunday I will take the TTC up to </span><span style="font-family: "verdana";">North York</span><span style="font-family: "verdana";">, and demonstrate my sorrow and solidarity with the
community in Willowdale. My god, I love you. All who died, who are injured, who
are hurting -- I love you. We'll get through this, together. </span><span style="font-family: "verdana";">Toronto</span><span style="font-family: "verdana";"> is our home and we've built it together. No one
can take that away from us. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana";">Toronto</span><span style="font-family: "verdana";"> is not all that has been transformed. </span></div>
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Carolyn Bennetthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05512871717902253504noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34287184.post-27905211068409190912017-12-25T17:36:00.002-08:002017-12-25T17:36:13.608-08:00The Christmas House<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHa-3l5YqRfQaaJhsyX-vumjEDA5aoBclW0eZUtNAqX7_Sztm4AEimUpjuQMQ51JTcAR-wfz6ul_qgWb9mrkZNI6Z09_Ol5ds3WTIYnvWuh6wAjImTq9xG1loUDiPXeTsE2B0F/s1600/IMG_20171225_193827.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="900" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHa-3l5YqRfQaaJhsyX-vumjEDA5aoBclW0eZUtNAqX7_Sztm4AEimUpjuQMQ51JTcAR-wfz6ul_qgWb9mrkZNI6Z09_Ol5ds3WTIYnvWuh6wAjImTq9xG1loUDiPXeTsE2B0F/s320/IMG_20171225_193827.jpg" width="180" /></a></div>
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I had never seen anyone die. </div>
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<br />
</div>
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The rasping I read about in fiction
was unmistakable. I was the first to hear it. The other women in
the room were chatting, doing their best to keep spirits bright.
</div>
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<br />
</div>
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“Uh, I think it's near.”</div>
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</div>
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I moved over to the bedside and
listened to my aunt's breathing. My cousin and my aunt's friend
gathered close. I held my aunt's hand. Her respiratory system spasmed. It's an uncanny sound, the death rattle. It's a signal for loved ones to ready themselves.</div>
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*</div>
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Around the corner from my apartment is
an old house. It is home to a couple of professional set designers.
This time of year the house is transformed into pure magic. Why they
arrange and construct such an elaborate display and rack up enormous
electricity bills year after year, I don't know. All I know is that
it brings such inexplicable joy to my heart.
</div>
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<br />
</div>
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*
</div>
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<br />
</div>
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Auntie Martha was what my mother would call a
“grand dame”. She never had kids and she had been widowed twice.
She loved to travel and collected unique artifacts from her
adventures. She loved the ballet and theatre. She had an archness I
found admirable. She didn't take herself too seriously. But she was
complex in her own way, hard to really know. I had to respect that.
For some reason, she asked me to be her power of attorney for health.
The honour I initially felt turned to distress when I realized the
extent of the responsibilities. Could I do it?
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*</div>
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I studied what was my aunt. She had
been unconscious for awhile, probably left us some time earlier in
the day, but her lungs continued to squeeze out breath. The gasps
became fewer and fewer and at longer intervals. Then, one long sigh,
and nothing else. I watched her shrink back into the hospital bed.
“I'll go get the nurse,” I said to my companions. Not knowing
what else to say, I made note of the time. “4:10 p.m. Christmas Day
2016.”
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*</div>
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</div>
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Riding the subway home from the
hospital, I saw my aunt's house in my mind, with its bright Christmas
decorations, its big red stockings, Santas, and candy canes. She
lived alone for years, yet always decorated for the holidays. She had
just left the house a week earlier. The little twinkling Christmas
tree still stood by the front window. I wiped a quick tear away. Some
power of attorney I was. There was no negotiation, not even a plea
bargain. I couldn't stop death.</div>
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</div>
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*</div>
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What do you do when you've just
witnessed a loved one die, it's Christmas day, and you're on your
own? For me it was one of two things: anesthetize myself to blunt the
sorrow, or search for beauty to make sense of it all.
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*</div>
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Almost every inch of the Christmas
house is thoughtfully lit, the colours carefully schemed, the effect
glowing. From front to back, lights are arranged in little
snowflakes, snowmen, and candy canes. It is my ideal Christmas
house. It fills me with awe. This is my hope for Christmas. It was my
hope for my aunt that dark, cold night last year as I wondered through shining eyes at the
mystery of it all, if her essence glowed in those lights. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Last month I happened upon the fellow from the Christmas house toting a ladder, string of lights in tow. I stopped and told him about my aunt's passing last year, and what comfort his Christmas display brought me that night. I thanked him from my heart, and for the happiness he and his partner bring to the neighhourhood. I could see he was visibly touched. </div>
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More than ever, I understand the spirit of Christmas.</div>
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<br />Carolyn Bennetthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05512871717902253504noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34287184.post-33235778454974026212017-10-25T19:33:00.001-07:002017-10-25T19:33:14.517-07:00An interview with Harvey Weinstein: A two minute play<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO2UV-BEYHvQQg_HVR2bC0hXc4LddbiQgWFlefrLv7BhNeT43UUsdX3rBFb_6Yd6qlV8nl6Yk-zbeVrU1alj_HfOIaOALrFUU9Q_RvA4g8V5hOAAk40esMaRTENMfX_R3AOr-Y/s1600/Weinstein.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO2UV-BEYHvQQg_HVR2bC0hXc4LddbiQgWFlefrLv7BhNeT43UUsdX3rBFb_6Yd6qlV8nl6Yk-zbeVrU1alj_HfOIaOALrFUU9Q_RvA4g8V5hOAAk40esMaRTENMfX_R3AOr-Y/s320/Weinstein.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<i>Scene: A luxury hotel room in New York
City. Harvey Weinstein enters wearing a bathrobe. He is disheveled.
There is a knock at the door. Harvey goes over to a mirror and
smooths his hair. He slaps his face a few times, grunts, then sings.</i></div>
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<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
HARVEY<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: verdana, arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 8pt;"><br /></span></span></span><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Hy-Rickety
whoop-de-doo,<br />We're the Men of Sigma Nu!<br />Hullibaloo,
Terickahoo<br />All together for Sigma Nu, HEY!!</span></span></span></div>
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<i><br />
</i></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><i>He
points at himself in the mirror. Another knock at the door. He
saunters to the door and opens it to reveal Writer/Comic Carolyn
Bennett, wearing sweat pants, a Montreal Canadiens hockey jersey, and a Montreal Expos baseball cap.</i></span></span></div>
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</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">HARVEY</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">Who
the hell are you?</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">CAROLYN</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">Carolyn
Bennett. The writer/comic. We met 30 years ago at the Just For Laughs
Festival in Montreal.</span></span></div>
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<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">HARVEY</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">Wha
– I was expecting … you're not Abigail Breslin.</span></span></div>
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<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">CAROLYN</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">I
knew Mark Breslin. And you, sir, are no Mark Breslin.</span></span></div>
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<br />
</div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">HARVEY</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">Who?
</span></span>
</div>
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<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">CAROLYN</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="firstHeading"></a>
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Don't
you remember that night in 1987 with Gilbert Rozen at </span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span lang="en">Foufounes
Électriques? I slam-danced you into a mod when you tried to slip
your hand up my Youpee doll... you said to give you a call if I
wanted to work for Miramax. Well, here I am!</span></span></span></span></div>
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<br />
</div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><i><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span lang="en">Harvey
squints at Bennett. He shrugs and sighs.</span></span></i></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span lang="en">HARVEY</span></span></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span lang="en">Look,
do you want to give me a massage or not? </span></span></span></span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><i><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span lang="en">Harvey
opens up his bathrobe to reveal his hairy stomach and flaccid penis. </span></span></i></span></span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span lang="en">CAROLYN</span></span></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span lang="en">Oh.
Wow. Oh...Wow. Yes. I have heard about your legendary prowess. Yes.
Let's proceed. Okay, baby, I brought some lube.</span></span></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span lang="en">HARVEY</span></span></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span lang="en">Good.
I think we'll need it.</span></span></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span lang="en">CAROLYN</span></span></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span lang="en">Absolutely.
Make yourself comfortable and get ready for some slippery love.</span></span></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><i><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span lang="en">Carolyn
produces a tube of lubricant. She applies a thick coat to Harvey's
genitals.</span></span></i></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span lang="en">CAROLYN</span></span></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span lang="en">Feel
good, sugar?</span></span></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span lang="en">HARVEY</span></span></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span lang="en">Oh
yeah.. that's good. That's ..ow.. ow.. OW. OW! OW!!! AAAHHH!! GOODD!
AHHA! WHAT DID YOU PUT ON ME!</span></span></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span lang="en">CAROLYN</span></span></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span lang="en">A
little love potion called Rub A535. </span></span></span></span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span lang="en">HARVEY</span></span></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span lang="en">AAAAHHHHHH!!!
It burns! It buuurrrnnnnsss!</span></span></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span lang="en">CAROLYN</span></span></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span lang="en">You
better get used to that, brother.</span></span></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><i><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span lang="en">Carolyn
winds up and kicks Harvey in the testicles. She is about to leave, but
turns back to address him as he writhes in pain.</span></span></i></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span lang="en">CAROLYN</span></span></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span lang="en">Sorry
about the assault. I'm not on Twitter.</span></span></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><i><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span lang="en">Fin</span></span></i></span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
Carolyn Bennetthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05512871717902253504noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34287184.post-85337401927998316052017-07-25T08:03:00.000-07:002017-07-25T08:03:19.494-07:00Spinning Saves My Life<span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN;"> </span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN;"></span><img alt="https://gymkompaniet.se/media/Depositphotos_77840422_m-2015.jpg" class="shrinkToFit" height="635" src="https://gymkompaniet.se/media/Depositphotos_77840422_m-2015.jpg" width="953" /></div>
<br />
<span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN;"> “ATTACK!”</span>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>He's yelling at us, like he always
does. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Deep breaths. Oxygenate the blood.
Oxygenate the brain.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I like my brain oxygenated, because
as Neil says, rust never sleeps. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Be confident. Be aggressive.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The same mantra every few days. I
never get tired of it. Sweat is pouring into my eyes. I lose my grip on the
bike – the bars are slick with my yuck.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I recover with a stalwart pace. A pounding techno soundtrack hurls us
on. Not many places where a woman over 50 can go to get her freak on and not
feel conspicuous. It's a 10a.m. rave, complete with water bottles and ecstasy,
but we're high on our own bodies. Happy brain chemicals are doing their thing. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Crank it to a seven. Crank it to an
eight. A little bit more. A little bit more. Get cranky! Use your anger! That's
what it's for. ATTACK!.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>My heart is pounding at the same rate
as the music. God, this feels good. No, this feels euphoric. The chronic pain
in my knees is gone, although I can still hear them crunch, and if I don't keep
the pace, they can lock. Not cool. So I keep the pace, keep the faith, keep
breathing and pushing until I feel like I'm on the verge of vomiting. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I did a lot of vomiting in my active
addiction. Drank until I puked because it was my normal. Used to vomit every
time I drank. Got hangovers that made me want to put a gun to my head and pull
the trigger. But if I did that, I couldn't drink. So I kept up the vicious
cycle of toxic drinking and punishing withdrawal until the day came when, yeah,
pulling the trigger was one of two options. Fifteen years later, sobriety is
sweetened substantially by spin classes, yoga, pilates, weights and walking. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“This is the best therapy you can
do.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The man knows of what he speaks. Peter
Gault [petergault.ca] my fitness guru, 59 years old, a hockey ref when he's not kicking our
ass in the gym or at this home studio. He refs three, sometimes four shifts a
week. Played hockey as a kid with Gretzky. Peter has a shaved head and is tattooed,
before it became <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">de rigueur</i>. He's
bounced dives in the Lower East Side and lived in his car in Manhattan and on
the Florida coast. In his twenties, he wrote a bestseller, a raunchy novel
called Goldenrod that made him some dough. He ate nothing but raw food for over
a decade and </span>performed at six Burning Man's for a Reno theatre company.
At 39, he was certified <span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN;">in spin at Mad
Dogg Athletics in NYC. He looks like a viking. The man has lived experience. He
comes by his toughness honestly. I love being yelled at by him.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>It is the best therapy that I can
do. The 12 step groups are foundational, but sometimes, you know, I don't want
to talk. Talking, talking, and then there's the listening. Listening to the
talking. Listening to your own talking is the worst. That's the time that I
need high intensity exercise. It takes a person out of their mind and into
their body. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Meditate on that!”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>He knows of what he speaks. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Recovering addicts are always in
danger of relapse. The thought crosses my mind more than I care to say.
Sometimes being alive is painful not only physically, but spiritually. Springtime
sends my soul into spasms. The burgeoning life all around, the sunshine and
blue skies, the foliage and return of songbirds can send me into the
stratosphere. It hurts being on earth when I want to fly. Some days the
sensation is so intense and uncomfortable that the only thing I can do is spin
off the sensory overload. It's either that or attempt poetry. This past spring
when I was uncomfortable, I walked and walked and walked. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I walked until I was calm. Our own bodies can
be good friends when we decide to befriend them.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Be happy. Don't forget to be
happy.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>This is Peter's final mantra as the
class slows the pace to a stop. I sop up the sweat on my face with a damp
towel. Peter finishes the class by having us do some yoga. I twist my spine,
wringing out the regret and shame and pain. I twist the other way, feeling
elasticity in the movement. This human vessel that I despised for so long, that
I wanted to escape, is today my beloved messenger. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Be happy. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Thank you, body. Thank you, Peter.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I am happy. </span></div>
Carolyn Bennetthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05512871717902253504noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34287184.post-91542115447837044162017-04-25T14:47:00.000-07:002017-04-25T14:47:54.129-07:00My Eight Year-Old Neighbour Taught Me A Lesson In Civic Engagement - AND YOU'LL NEVER GUESS WHAT HAPPENED NEXT<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;">
<img alt="https://s3.amazonaws.com/metvnetwork/Sil6p-1464117275-4193-list_items-metal_slide.jpg" height="368" src="https://s3.amazonaws.com/metvnetwork/Sil6p-1464117275-4193-list_items-metal_slide.jpg" width="400" /></div>
<br />
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<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>A Tuesday
morning, and I'm sitting on a bench at my local park, watching the kids play on
the swings, and wondering at what age does it all go wrong. Flashing back to my
own childhood; <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span>an indifferent grip on
the monkey bars; <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span>spinning on the
merry-go-round to the point of nausea; suggesting to the boys that we play
mortician instead of doctor. The idea of play would only take hold in my life
as a teenager and adult, as a means to control and suppress a powerful
imagination.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The Tuesday morning is
splendid and the sky is blue and cloudless. I sigh and wipe away a maudlin tear.
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>She stands
beside me, arms akimbo, frowning.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>"Look
at that," she says, pointing her chin toward playground apparatus.
"That slide is not up to code."</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I look
around to see who she is talking to, and realize it's me.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>"Whose
your child?" she asks. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>"I
don't have any kids."</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>"Why
are you watching us play, then?"</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I suddenly
feel very conspicuous and guilty for no reason. I response the best I can. "The
last time I checked this is a free country. And who says I'm watching
you? Don't be so precious."</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>"Suit
yourself."</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>She squints
and folds her arms.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>"Look at that
slide. Do you think that incline is 30 degrees? I'd say it's more like 40
degrees. And what about the slide exit edges? They're rusted. I'm writing a
letter to my councillor. This is not safe." </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>She is a
child of around eight years of age. She has brown hair and is wearing a jacket
that is emblazoned with the words <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">L'il
Punk</i> on the back. She has pierced ears and her diamond studs flash in the
sun. She takes a sip of Global Villager Kombucha from a glass jar. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I fold my
arms as well. "Have you been on the slide?"</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>She snorts.
"Are you kidding? I wouldn't be caught dead on that contraption. It's a
public structure, maintained by the city. Or correction -- I may be caught dead
on that structure -- if I slid down it."</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I am
growing tired of this killjoy. "Go play with the others now."</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>"You
say 'the others' like they're aliens."</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>"I did
not."</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>"Yes,
you did." She wags a finger at me. "Do you have a problem with me
reporting this violation of code to the authorities?"</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>"I
don't care."</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>"Well,
maybe you should," she admonishes, "it's people like you who allow
our public property to fall into disrepair."</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>"I
thought you wouldn't be caught dead on the slide?"</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>"Well...I..."
her voice trails off and she looks over at the swing set. I feel a little
bad about questioning her motives. I hope she won't cry. The kid clearly wants
to engage me in a substantive conversation, but I want none of it because it's
interfering with my brooding. Then she spins around, red-faced.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>"'I'll
go back on the swings now. But I'm not happy about it. This doesn't hold a
candle to Universal Studios. Something needs to be done about
the state of the world"</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>She trudges
over to the recycling receptacle and tosses in the kombucha beverage. She
smooths her long hair into a ponytail and heads over to the swings.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>This kid
needs some serious cheering up, I think. She's too young to be jaded. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I make my way over to the swings and take a seat beside her.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>"Is it
okay with you if I play on the swings for a bit?"</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>"I
don't care. It's a free country," she says.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>We swing,
the squeals of delight from other children filling our silence.</div>
Carolyn Bennetthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05512871717902253504noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34287184.post-8680616674662212822017-02-07T08:01:00.000-08:002017-02-07T08:02:03.683-08:00Why Is Everybody So Glum?<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<div class="MsoNormal">
My ninety-seven-year-old friend seemed agitated. Fists
pounding on the armrest of her wheelchair, Loretta would not hear otherwise.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>"I'm
telling you, Donald Trump is the President of the United
States!"</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Did the nursing
home hop her up on more goofballs? I have heard that it is better to go along
with an elderly person's delusions than to point out reality. If she would not
listen to reason, then I would have to placate her.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>"Okay,
Loretta. You're right and I am wrong. Donald Trump is President of the United
States."</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>"Don't
patronize me you little shit. Can you ask the volunteer agency to send me
another friendly visitor?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No offense,
but you can be a dimwit."</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I didn't
take her insult personally. She was clearly lashing out.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>"Yes,
I'll ask. In the meantime I'll see you in a few days. By the way, can you lend
me $20?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Her foot made
hard contact with my shin. "Get out."</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I have been
volunteering at the West End Nursing Home and Spa for a few months, hoping to
gain some insider intel into what my future might resemble. It didn't differ
too much from my present: board games, television, soft food, no family
dropping by. The residents of the home appeared particularly grumpy the last several weeks
though, sighing and angry outbursts ramped up from the norm. I found their
behaviours odd, especially since the constant stream of CNN on the televisions
in the common rooms had ceased. It was as if the residents had cut
themselves off from keeping abreast.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Their
media consumption was replaced by bizarre ramblings about the United
States refusing to admit immigrants and
travellers from certain predominantly Muslim countries. Disconcerting, sure, but
the aging brain can be like the contents in a raffle drum; memories, thoughts
and feelings scrambling around until a random item is selected and
fixated on.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>My Uber
driver also had a bee in his bonnet that day. He craned his neck to address me.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>"The
whole world has gone insane."</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>"Huh?"</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>"Trump
is a sociopath."</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I played
along, like our conversation was an improv game. "Yes, and."</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>"Yes,
and? He's going to take us all down with him."</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>"Yes,
and."</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>"Yes,
and? He's got the keys to the White House and a nuclear arsenal."</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>"Yes,
and."</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Is that all
you can say? Yes, and? What the hell is wrong with you?"</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I was none
too keen on the way he addressed me. We were driving in Toronto,
not New York City for goodness
sake.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>"Sir,
I would like to disembark at this intersection."</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>"Get
out."</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Even the
folks at the laundry mat were ill-tempered. When I politely asked a young woman
to remove her clean wet clothes from a washer that I wanted to use, she snarled
at me. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>"Sure,
whatever you want, whitey."</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I let a
giggle escape. I may be white, but so was she. I wanted to say to her,
"why so crabby, cakes?", but that may have been an invitation to get
knifed, so I kept my yap shut. I smiled broadly, which she didn't like.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>My friend
behind the counter grimaced at an open newspaper. When I asked him to make change for
my $20, he shrugged his shoulders.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>"I've
worked here for 25 years, and for what? To be held in suspicion by people like
Trump. Sure, miss. Here's your change."</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>He hastily folded up the paper, tossed
the loonies and quarters on the counter, and looked away, his eyes glistening.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I couldn't
figure out why everyone was talking about Donald Trump, a reality TV performer
and American businessman. It was as if everyone I met was personally affected
by his existence, as if he held some malevolent power over society. And the
notion that he was President of the United
States was particularly absurd.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The President of the United
States is a public servant, a selfless
citizen who works on behalf of the people of America.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Why were my friends, acquaintances, and
fellow citizens in Toronto believing that Donald Trump was President? By all
accounts, he is the antithesis of a public servant. He is a businessman, and a
government cannot be run solely as a business. It is much more than that. It is
the embodiment of common values and aspirations, a collective that cares for
all individuals. By definition, Donald Trump could never actually be president
of that great, wacky democracy. He could play-act the role, but never truly be
president because of his overwhelming self-interest.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I went home
with my clean clothes, switched on the TV, and curled up with<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> a </span>bowl of lentil soup and my Looney Tunes
collection. A weird day is nothing Bugs Bunny can't fix ... I keep telling
myself.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span></div>
Carolyn Bennetthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05512871717902253504noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34287184.post-21345678011471836372016-12-23T13:33:00.000-08:002016-12-23T13:33:02.642-08:00Merry Christmas from Bennettworld/Joyeux Noël<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCI4je9zk6Jb3FAS4hyphenhyphenv-VYwjAnaWW1Etq1TpF7a8Fdlo7-K5SnrXpCUIEhF1W9VxrmhuIIuYIq4VKhoIVbyoO1vPTTgyOMYIFWnTLvwyIyX23OPCunUhWI4yT85KhzXKeOboB/s1600/christmas-05.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCI4je9zk6Jb3FAS4hyphenhyphenv-VYwjAnaWW1Etq1TpF7a8Fdlo7-K5SnrXpCUIEhF1W9VxrmhuIIuYIq4VKhoIVbyoO1vPTTgyOMYIFWnTLvwyIyX23OPCunUhWI4yT85KhzXKeOboB/s320/christmas-05.jpg" width="320" /></a><i> </i><br />
<i>Random Image from Internet</i><br />
<br />
Dear To Whom it May Concern:<br />
<br />
Well, well, well. Well, well, well, well, well, well, well.<br />
<br />
If it isn't holiday time ...<br />
<br />
It's been a challenging year, but what would life be without its
challenges? If you thought 'pleasant', I am in agreement. Be that as it
may, 2016 is almost over and a new year, with fresh possibilities and
hope, is just around the corner. It is a grand thing to still be alive
to experience the challenges, unlike one of the 20th century's greatest
artists who passed away this year. Yes, that's right, I am talking about
Abe Vigoda. Fish, we never knew 'ya.<br />
<br />
This is all to say, from my conglomerate to yours, have a very
Merry Christmas and a peaceful New Year. We'll pick this up in January 2017.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
With warmest wishes for good health and happiness,<br />
<br />
CarolynCarolyn Bennetthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05512871717902253504noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34287184.post-12551451040260135292016-11-09T10:45:00.000-08:002016-11-09T10:45:50.295-08:00Phone call from United States President-elect Donald J. Trump to the Prime Minister of Canada, the Right Honourable Justin Trudeau<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>November 10, 2016 </i></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>ring ring ... ring ring ...</i></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Receptionist: Good morning,
Office of the Prime Minister. Bonjour, Cabinet du Premier ministre.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Trump: Hi, get the Prime
Minister on the line, will ya?</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Reception: Excusez-moi?</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Trump: Hey, look, I know you
have call display. Just put the Prime Minister on the line ... Please. </span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><h1>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Reception: ... Attendez, </span><span lang="EN" style="font-weight: normal;">s'il vous plaît.</span></span></span></h1>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><h1>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i><span lang="EN" style="font-weight: normal;">Hold music: Celine Dion's Dans un autre monde</span></i></span></span></h1>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><h1>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN" style="font-weight: normal;">Trump: (to Melania): Can you
get me another Pepto-Bismol, sweetie? </span></span></span></h1>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><h1>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN" style="font-weight: normal;">Reception: Mr. Trump, Prime
Minister Trudeau is now on the line.</span></span></span></h1>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><h1>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN" style="font-weight: normal;">Trump: Stephen. It's Donald.
Can you congratulate me again? I wanna hear it one more time.</span></span></span></h1>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><h1>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN" style="font-weight: normal;">Trudeau: Mr. Trump, ah, a
small reminder, my name is Justin Trudeau.</span></span></span></h1>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><h1>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN" style="font-weight: normal;">Trump: Right. Lay that polite canuckspeak
on me again.</span></span></span></h1>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><h1>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN" style="font-weight: normal;">Trudeau: (reading from
statement): </span><span style="font-weight: normal;">On behalf of the Government of Canada, I
would like to congratulate Donald J. Trump on his election as the next
President of the </span><span style="font-weight: normal;">United
States</span><span style="font-weight: normal;">. </span> <span style="font-weight: normal;">Au nom
du gouvernement du </span><span style="font-weight: normal;">Canada</span><span style="font-weight: normal;">,
j’aimerais féliciter --</span></span></span></h1>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><h1>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Trump:<span> </span>--
yeah yeah, enough with that. Listen, Trudeau. We're going to be doing business
together. You know me. I like to say it the way it is. So, I'm going to make
you a beautiful offer, that I think, is fantastic for everyone involved. This
is a limited time offer, so don't think too much about it. Listen -- I will buy
your national and sub-national debt -- all of it. Because I'm a nice guy.</span></span></span></h1>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><h1>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Trudeau: Quois?</span></span></span></h1>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><h1>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Trump: In exchange -- in exchange for the branding
rights to </span><span style="font-weight: normal;">Canada</span><span style="font-weight: normal;">. </span></span></span></h1>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><pre><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Trudeau<b>: </b>Je ne comprends pas ce que vous dites ...</span></span></pre>
<pre><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Trump: (to Melania); Do you understand what he's saying? (to Trudeau)<span> </span> </span></span></pre>
<pre><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">So I will wipe out your debt, all of it, </span></span></pre>
<pre><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">make all your problems go away, in exchange for branding rights. </span></span></pre>
<pre><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">So we'll do away with the word Canada </span></span></pre>
<pre><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">and call the place Trumpland. It's easier for business, a catchier name, </span></span></pre>
<pre><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">it's fabulous. We'll take care of everything on our end. </span></span></pre>
<pre><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">You won't have to do a thing, except stay out of our way.</span></span></pre>
<pre><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></span></pre>
<pre><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Trudeau: ... Je ne comprends pas ce que vous dites ... Parlez-vous francais?</span></span></pre>
<pre><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></span></pre>
<pre><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Trump: (to Melania). What the hell? (to Trudeau). Okay ... Moi, je suis, uh, </span></span></pre>
<pre><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">payez lots of money, pour votre, uh, country. Canada, non, </span></span></pre>
<pre><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Trumpland, oui. D'accord?</span></span></pre>
<pre><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></span></pre>
<pre><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Trudeau: <span> </span>Attendez, s'il vous plaît. Allow me to consult with my advisors.</span></span></pre>
<pre><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></span></pre>
<pre><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Trump: I'll give you two minutes.</span></span></pre>
<pre><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></span></pre>
<pre><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>Hold music: Roch Voisine's Un Simples Gars</i></span></span></pre>
<pre><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i> </i></span></span></pre>
<pre><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Trump (to Melania): I don't know why he wants to speak French? I don't get it.</span></span></pre>
<pre><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></span></pre>
<pre><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Trudeau (back on line): Mr. Trump. I would like to thank you for your generous </span></span></pre>
<pre><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">offer to buy our national and subnational debt. Your thoughtfulness is </span></span></pre>
<pre><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">appreciated. However, our government politely declines your offer. </span></span></pre>
<pre><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">We thank you for your interest </span></span></pre>
<pre><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">in our sovereignty, a wish you all the best as you prepare to become </span></span></pre>
<pre><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">the next President of the United States.</span></span></pre>
<pre><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></span></pre>
<pre><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Trump: Wait a minute -- are you sure? What are you holding onto up there? </span></span></pre>
<pre><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Give it up, it's been over for years. We already own you. </span></span></pre>
<pre><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Why not give up the charade and make it official?</span></span></pre>
<pre><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></span></pre>
<pre><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Trudeau: Le Canada n’a pas d’ami, de partenaire ou d’allié plus </span></span></pre>
<pre><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">proche que les États-Unis. Nous sommes impatients de travailler de très </span></span></pre>
<pre><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">près avec --</span></span></pre>
<pre><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></span></pre>
<pre><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Trump: -- yeah, yeah, we'll be in touch. The offer is only good for another day.</span></span></pre>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><h1>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Trudeau: If you have any further inquiries, you can
have them directed to our Minister of National Defence, the Honourable Harjit
Singh Sajjan.</span></span></span></h1>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><h1>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Trump: I don't know that guy. What's he look like?</span></span></span></h1>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><h1>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Trudeau: He looks Canadian.</span></span></span></h1>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><h1>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Trump: Beautiful. You people are so good looking. I
like good looking. </span></span></span></h1>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Trudeau: I have to go,
Hadrien just threw up. </span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Trump: Who? Doesn't matter.
Think about my offer. We'll see you around.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Trudeau: See you on ice. <i>Au revoir. </i></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><h1>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"> </span></span></span></h1>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<br />
Carolyn Bennetthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05512871717902253504noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34287184.post-23852931194092415622016-08-19T14:26:00.000-07:002016-08-19T14:26:52.571-07:00It's Not Over When It's Over<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_N43aCMpiS8Uf_c0DRjkBgfbMhDIJSBhy70wjOlbVZFt0tt0amTPwcZAwiszUoi-sZ8wQbXBIBad_8WFlIjJGmYOvch99a0jIaQxr_8wFrA1jmedC66-rGeDxzdJjfXWFxlTK/s1600/visiblespectrum.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="128" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_N43aCMpiS8Uf_c0DRjkBgfbMhDIJSBhy70wjOlbVZFt0tt0amTPwcZAwiszUoi-sZ8wQbXBIBad_8WFlIjJGmYOvch99a0jIaQxr_8wFrA1jmedC66-rGeDxzdJjfXWFxlTK/s640/visiblespectrum.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">She used to call me babes.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Long straight blond hair,
tanned complexion, a few freckles on her nose. Eyes that seemed to change colour in the light.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">She drove a sports car. A cool chick, the kind I'd hang out with in high school. She'd pick
me up at a subway station because I don't have a vehicle.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">"Hey babes."</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Upscale casual well-made
clothes dressed her thin frame. I loved it when she'd toss her cast-offs
my way. The red pants I'm crouching in when you see my Facebook picture, those
were hers. She never did wear them.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">She was the kind of woman
(girl) I imagined the Beach Boys sang about <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I,
I love the colorful clothes she wears/And the way the sunlight plays upon her
hair. </i>J. reminded me of Jennifer Aniston, of perpetual youth and an endearing lankiness. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">She was tortured.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">We sat in her car one night
outside a meeting. I watched her smoke one cigarette after another. She told me
she gave birth to three triplets who all died. She wiped away tears, tears that
wouldn't stop. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">I could not relate. But I
could make her laugh. And eventually, she made me laugh.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">My boyfriend and I went out
with J. and her husband on a few occasions. Dinner. Sailing. Over to their
place. J. came on her own to Hirut Hoot, the comedy show I co-produce. Hosting that night, I felt great to see her laughing with
the regulars.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">There was nothing I could
do. I am ill-equipped myself.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">She loved her teen-aged son
and encouraged him to get serious about his acting career. Love though, can take on a life of its own. It becomes a shapeshifter. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">One day, I had to be honest
with her.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">"I can't be your
sponsor anymore. You're not listening to me."</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">She stopped coming to our
home group. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">* </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">"Babes. I have to move
out of my house. Can you come over?"</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">J. stood in a bedroom, piles
and piles of clothes surrounding her, persona at her feet. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">"Grab a bag."</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">I hesitated, but started
foraging through her belongings. She held shirts and dresses up to my body and
nodded 'yes' or shook her head 'no'. Afterward, we sat on the front steps of the empty house. We had coffee and talked about our lives, squinting in the late August sun.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">* </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Two years later, I am
heading into my meeting when a member asks to speak to me.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">"I think I saw J. at
the ER. The police brought her in. She was in handcuffs."</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">He told me about her screams,
her bony body flailing as the cops held her. The sputtering about absence. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Grief caved in on me. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">* </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Four months ago, I received
an email from her ex-husband. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I'm sorry
to inform you that J. has passed away.</i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">I was wearing one of her
shirts when I read the email.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">At J.'s funeral, shocked
family and friends stood like bowling pins. A Catholic priest presided, and to
my surprise, expressed mercy and kindness. I didn't know the Catholic rule book
had updated its take on suicide. I kept staring at the urn, picturing her blond
hair and freckles. She had freckles in her forties. Unusual.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Sometimes, I'll be walking
and then stop, amazed by the sun, astonished how light produces colour -- soft
greens, gentle blues, permutations of the visible spectrum. Then, above, I see a
brilliant yellow bird with specks of black and white, perched on a wire. In my despair,
this is what I remember.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
Carolyn Bennetthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05512871717902253504noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34287184.post-86604617137946410312016-06-29T10:27:00.000-07:002016-06-29T10:28:04.866-07:00Captain America Enters U.S. Presidential Race <span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"><b>(exclusive
to Bennettworld)</b></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Captain
America a.k.a. Steven Rogers has entered the race to be the next president of
the United States.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The patriotic
super soldier declared his bid for the White House in a press conference
yesterday.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6TakbPzhaqb0BDzulnlgMWV1qnM3z_RCnoeUHO-CK0exTVC4lJiRKsNTmi2i85K2tGSCW5zaAMGGPiwxpBy8iNuzBA4MCJIlurgdnygmSV8VVmOC6itvyxKYsUUsFW5_4kfLr/s1600/Captain-America-AOU-Render.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6TakbPzhaqb0BDzulnlgMWV1qnM3z_RCnoeUHO-CK0exTVC4lJiRKsNTmi2i85K2tGSCW5zaAMGGPiwxpBy8iNuzBA4MCJIlurgdnygmSV8VVmOC6itvyxKYsUUsFW5_4kfLr/s320/Captain-America-AOU-Render.png" width="256" /></a></div>
<o:p></o:p><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“I am
dedicated to the preservation of the American people against the forces of
evil,” Captain American said. “I will use my shield to decapitate any army of
evildoers to defend our way of life.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Captain
America’s late entry as an independent candidate for the job as President has
come as a surprise to politicians and pundits. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“I get that
Captain America is an expert tactician and has an enormous capacity for work, I
get that. I get that he loves his country. But he is a fictional character appearing
in Marvel Comic books. An actor in costume played him at the press conference.
For me, that raises some questions,” said conservative political consultant
Karl Rove.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">A Gallup
poll conducted after the announcement of Captain American as a presidential candidate
found that a slim majority of Americans would vote for him.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“What this
would indicate is that the American people love their cartoon characters,” said
Senior Research Director Tyson Caldwell. “Although Donald Trump has held ground
for many months, it would appear there’s a new superhero in town.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Those
opposed to Captain America becoming the head of state and commander-in-chief of
one of the most powerful nations on earth dismiss the poll as irrelevant.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“I have said
it before, but it bears repeating – Captain America is a fictional character
created by comic book artists and is the creative property of Marvel Comics,”
said Allison O’Donnell, a Masters student in pharmacology at Georgetown University.
“Besides, the Super-Serum and so-called “Vita-ray” treatment he has purportedly
taken has not had FDA approved double-blind clinical studies.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Patton
Gettysburg, the campaign manager for Captain America is optimistic that his
candidate will present a serious challenge for both Donald Trump and Hilary
Clinton. As neither a Republican nor a democrat, America represents a massive constituency
exasperated with the other presidential contenders. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Parties are
for poopers,” said Gettysburg. “The American people want a President that
adheres to no political party and has no plan, someone who is agenda-less. The
People want someone who can speak to their needs on a relativistic, atomic
basis.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">When asked by
New York Times journalist Jonathan Martin at the press conference what in
specific he would do for the American People, Captain America said, “If someone
needs their car washed, or they needed me to go pick up some milk for them at
the store, I will be there to help. That’s a promise.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“For all 321,442,019
persons and counting?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“For all
321,442,019 persons and counting,” said Captain America. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
Carolyn Bennetthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05512871717902253504noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34287184.post-11314023909267951782016-03-28T15:00:00.000-07:002016-03-28T15:00:04.964-07:00The Gravitational Pull of Rob Ford<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8RyVduW-4YhymiCF6_nqWI1qpDzy-1FojNOUT8SHUWpn_2MEYFjcHyQtXIfTfvQfUzqpnX-074RsLIOo1E1yNVLvQvKNm33OKpf28ETPsK8cbzj79P6WwRpe5T7p1Di_kFb3Z/s1600/220px-Rob_Ford_Mayor.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8RyVduW-4YhymiCF6_nqWI1qpDzy-1FojNOUT8SHUWpn_2MEYFjcHyQtXIfTfvQfUzqpnX-074RsLIOo1E1yNVLvQvKNm33OKpf28ETPsK8cbzj79P6WwRpe5T7p1Di_kFb3Z/s400/220px-Rob_Ford_Mayor.jpg" width="245" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;">I am partial to the laws of physics. One law
in particular has been on my mind of late -- gravitational pull:</span><br />
<i><span style="font-family: Times;">The size of gravitational force depends
on the mass of the object being pulled by the Earth. The size of this force is
the weight of the object.</span></i><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">A massive object
will have more gravitational pull that a lighter object. Case in point, Rob
Ford, his own planet, has attracted more people with his magnetism than I have. Can the law of
gravitational pull be applied to the phenomenon of Rob Ford?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Yes, is my
conclusion. I have experienced it.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">A few years ago, the </span><span style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Emanuel-Howard</span><span style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Park</span><span style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">United</span><span style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;"> <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Church</span><span style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;"> (now called </span><span style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Roncesvalles</span><span style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">United</span><span style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Church)</span><span style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;"> in </span><span style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Toronto</span><span style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;"> called upon my comedic
services to host a wine and<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>cheese fundraiser. This church is about as left-leaning, LGBTQ-positive,
social justice-activist as it gets. Its tagline is "A Radically Welcoming
Christian Community". Like any good Catholic, I love the United Church of
Canada (no kneeling, no mass). Many of my friends are members of this church,
so when I was asked to host, I was happy to help. The gig gave me an excuse
to wear a gown with my Doc Martens. Besides, being in alcohol recovery, I have
grown fond of church basements.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Our MPP and MP
for High Park-Parkdale were in attendance that night, eager to support this
church and its charitable works. The organizer told me that she had
invited Mayor Rob Ford as well, but did not expect him to show up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I took that as my cue to fire off some Rob
and Doug jokes, the <i>lingua franca </i>of the comedy scene at the time. The
material went over well with the audience. I then brought up a band that played
a couple of songs while getting ready for the next part of the evening's
business, the auction.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">From my vantage
point in the wings, I could see a little commotion in the audience, a parting
of the crowd making way for someone or something. I thought more beer was being
delivered. That's when the event organizer rushed up to me.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">"He's
here!"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">"Who's
here?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">"Rob Ford!
You've got to introduce him now!"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">After the band
finished its song, she prodded me back on stage. Stunned, all I could manage to
say was "Folks, please welcome to the stage, Mr. Rob Ford!"</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">I didn't call him
"His Worship". I was too shocked. He crossed the stage with a plaque in
his hand and proceeded to give brief remarks of congratulations to the church
and its volunteers. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">That's when I
felt the gravitational pull of Rob Ford, the large man with the ruddy face and
blond hair, impeccably dressed in a suit. I could feel his charisma like shock waves. He had a cherub's aura, a bizarre innocence. I marvelled at him as
he presented the plaque to the event organizer, one of the main stalwarts of
the church. The crowd applauded, and after a few pleasantries with some congregates, the mayor took his leave with his people. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">That gesture of
venturing out into lefty territory and paying tribute to people who earlier
laughed at jokes made at his expense converted me into a fan of Rob Ford. The
fact that he had addiction problems made me sympathetic to him. Was he a good
mayor? No, but he was a savvy politician. For better or for worse, he put the
city of </span><span style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Toronto</span><span style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;"> on the map and arguably did more for tourism that
the billion dollar extravaganza of the Pan Am Games. For a year or so, we all
were citizens of Crazy Town, and it was exhilarating -- just ask the media, the
late night talk show hosts, the comedians. Mr. Ford didn't have a pretentious
bone in his body and was incapable of artifice. He was a comedian's friend,
someone not afraid to laugh at himself because if you can't beat 'em, you might
as well join 'em. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">When I heard he
had cancer, my thought was that the media and those who hounded him would only
be happy when he's dead. And now he's dead. I'm not happy. </span><span style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Toronto</span><span style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;"> has just lost one of the
most colourful characters this city has ever known. What it has gained though
is its newest folk hero. Maybe that's what Mr. Ford was aiming for all along. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Rob Ford was a force of nature. Denying his affect is like denying magnetism. He had pull.</span><br />
Carolyn Bennetthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05512871717902253504noreply@blogger.com1